


Sparrow

by violetsandroses



Series: Fable [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Fable 2 (Video Game)
Genre: All the 'Canon-Typicals' refer to Fable 2 canon moreso than D:BH canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Fable 2 AU - Freeform, Good Parent Amanda (Detroit: Become Human), M/M, Original Character(s), canon-typical depictions of sex work, canon-typical depictions of slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:00:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 62,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24124777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetsandroses/pseuds/violetsandroses
Summary: Nines and his brother live a poor but peaceful life in the city of Bowerstone.Then one day, everything changes.
Relationships: Amanda & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Upgraded Connor | RK900 & Kara, Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Series: Fable [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740706
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	1. Childhood

**Author's Note:**

> Why doesn't anybody write the wacky crossover AUs they secretly crave? I strive to be the change I want to see in the world 😆
> 
> Before we begin, I must give credit where credit is due: an actual percentage point of this work was written by Fable 2 the game, by which I mean I shamelessly lifted so, so much of the plot relevant dialogue. Thank you, dear script writers.
> 
> Also, in that vein: MAJOR spoilers for Fable 2 ahead, this story follows the main plotline plus more than half of the side quests quite loyally. If you are at all interested in playing Fable 2 and would like to avoid spoilers, please feel free to set aside this work until you can watch a let's play or complete your own playthrough. It'll be here if you ever feel like coming back.
> 
> I would be remiss if I failed to mention precisely how this AU came to light: there I was, playing Fable 2, when I was struck with the sudden thought that, man, if Nines was the Hero of this game, that Hate-Love slider would be aaaaaaaaall the way to the right, and that Scary-Funny slider would be aaaaaaaaall the way to the left.
> 
> And it all spiralled out of control from there.

One bright spring day, on a small farm about a day’s carriage ride away from the city of Bowerstone, a young Hero was born.

“What’s his name, Mommy?” a small boy asked his mother as she lovingly cradled her newborn. His mother cast an indulgent glance his way as he stood on his tiptoes, trying to peek over the side of the bed she was resting on to stare at her bundle.

“His name is Ninian, Connor. He’s your new younger brother.”

Connor, only a few months older than two, wrinkled his nose at the strange sound.

“Ni-nuhn?”

Connor’s mother could hardly suppress a laugh. “ _Ninian_.”

“Nin-nin?” Connor furrowed his tiny brow, knowing that still wasn’t right. “Ninun. Niani—Nina—”

Frustration mounting, Connor gave up with a huff. How was he supposed to say that? The nerve of his baby brother, having such an unpronounceable name. Something would have to be done about it.

Connor took a moment to think it over.

It wasn’t long before his face brightened with inspiration.

“Nines!” He exclaimed, jumping up and down excitedly next to the bed. Just then, the creaking of the stairs foretold a third party on their way to inspect the scene.

“Now, what’s all this fuss about?” Connor’s father joined his wife and sons next to the bed, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder. They shared a loving glance.

“Connor’s decided that his little brother is to be called Nines. ‘Ninian’ is apparently too demanding for two-year-old tongues.”

Connor’s father laughed heartily. 

“Well, that sounds like a mighty fine nickname to me. Nines it is.” He reached down to ruffle his son’s hair, and Connor beamed at him, proud as can be.

Such was the beginning of Nines, the destined Hero of Albion.

* * *

But all good things must come to an end, and some, unfortunately, do so sooner than others.

It was a perfect day in Albion when a local town guard knocked on the farmhouse’s front door. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and the brothers had plans; their parents were away at the market, and today would be another fun-filled day of shooting bottles, kicking chickens, and killing the beetles trying to gnaw on the crops. Connor was so busy thinking of where he should hide the bottles this time that he almost forgot to answer the door.

He hurried down the stairs from his and Nines’s room and pulled it open. The sullen face of the grizzled guard on the other side was far from a welcome sight.

Bandits had attacked their parents’ carriage on the way back from Bowerstone Market. There were no survivors. 

Connor and Nines clutched each other and sobbed. The guard allowed them some moments of grief before advising them to fetch whatever belongings they thought they could carry; it would be a long ride back to Bowerstone.

Connor, at eight years old, and Nines at six, newly orphaned, spent the whole journey in silence. 

Just yesterday, they had a family. 

Now, all they had left was each other.

* * *

Nines and Connor were deposited at the Bowerstone Orphanage, where they lived in relative peace for two more years. 

However, the orphanage was overfull, understaffed, and only scraping by on what remained of the meager funding that trickled down from Lord Elijah’s donations. They started turning children away earlier and earlier.

The spring after his tenth birthday, they told Connor that he couldn’t come back.

Nines, now eight, would never abandon his brother, and insisted on staying with Connor, refusing to go back to the orphanage no matter how vigorously Connor protested. Eventually, Connor conceded; he had learned by then that resistance was futile in the face of his endlessly stubborn little brother.

So Nines and Connor took to living on the streets of Bowerstone. They were hardly alone, there were many other kids in their exact situation, but life was not easy. It took all of a day’s work just to secure the food they needed to survive. But survive, they did.

The months passed, and Connor grew worried for himself and his brother. Bowerstone was getting colder, and he and Nines had yet to find proper shelter for the winter. A ramshackle platform tucked between buildings would simply not be enough to keep them warm at night.

That winter, Connor’s fears were assuaged by the kindness of travelers willing to share their caravan for the season. For the first time since their parents died, Connor and Nines felt taken care of by people who truly cared about them. They would eat, and laugh, and sing together by the fire, and when night fell the adults would tuck them into bed in the safety of the caravan, where the cold could not touch them.

But when spring broke, the travelers had to move on, and Connor and Nines were on their own once again.

For the rest of the year, nothing changed. By now, the brothers knew Bowerstone inside and out. The streets had become their own. Begging, scavenging, and, when the need was dire, stealing, were just as routine as the hunger always gnawing at their bellies.

It wasn’t much, but they survived.

Spring bled into summer. Summer into fall. And fall seeped into winter once again, bringing with it the bitter cold and snow.

The travelers didn’t come back that year.

Before Connor knew it, it was the dead of winter, and he and Nines were forced to bear it as best they could with nothing but the clothes on their backs and blankets shoddily cut from gunny sacks.

But Connor was the big brother. He’d figure something out. He had to.

He had to protect Nines.

* * *

Connor was lost in thoughts like these as he and Nines warmed their hands by a brazier someone had set alight, when all of a sudden, something white and gooey-looking dropped from the sky straight onto Nines’ head.

The second of complete bafflement it took for Nines to register the assault was nothing short of hilarious, but Connor, the good brother that he was, withheld his amusement to only a short laugh at Nines’s expense.

“They say that’s good luck, you know,” Connor told him with a chuckle.

“If it’s between this and a four-leaf clover, I definitely prefer the clover,” Nines sullenly replied, still trying to wipe the remnants of bird poop out of his hair.

Smiling, Connor turned his gaze back to the horizon. They had a decent view of Bowerstone from here, rooftops dotting the landscape for as far as the eye could see, and towering over it all was the magnificent, and frankly gargantuan, Castle Fairfax.

“The Castle looks so nice in the snow,” Connor mused to his brother. “Imagine how huge the grand dining hall must be! I bet Lord Elijah’s having roast duck this time of year.” Connor’s salivating just thinking about it. He can’t remember the last time he ate meat.

Nines offered no response, but that was hardly unusual. Connor had always been the chattier brother.

“But he must be really lonely, all by himself,” Connor continued with a frown, “all alone in that huge castle, ever since his wife and daughter passed away.”

He turned back to the fire, gazing mournfully at the flames. “If only we could live there.”

Nines looked up at him skeptically, but he was never one to deny Connor his dreams for a better life, no matter how fantastic they may be.

Their monotony was broken by the sudden sound of raucous cheers and an echoing clamoring from somewhere further down the street. They both turned toward the sound, startled.

“What’s going on over there?” Connor stood for a second, considering, and then started to walk toward the noise. “Come on, Nines, let’s go check it out!”

Connor took off down the street, Nines hot on his heels, not one to be left behind. They found the source of the noise to be a crowd gathering around a wagon full to bursting with various curiosities and knicknacks, sold by a strange man calling himself, if Connor was reading that sign correctly, “Mystical Murgo.” As Connor and Nines approached the crowd, Murgo began to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” He exclaimed. “I have traveled the land accumulating wondrous and mysterious objects—which I now offer to you for the modest price of five gold.”

Murgo then proceeded to showcase a series of shoddy and quite obviously mundane items, with nothing remotely “wondrous” or “mysterious” about them. Connor couldn’t help but frown.

A magical mirror that makes you beautiful whenever you look into it, as long as you only view it in complete darkness? How did people believe this nonsense?

Connor tuned back in just in time to hear Murgo’s next pitch.

“Ah, now this is truly a marvel,” Murgo claimed in a voice of exaggerated awe. “This small, unassuming box is actually a device created by the ancients. As used by the Old Kingdom rulers themselves!

“Turn the handle three times, and you shall be granted a single wish!”

Beside Connor, Nines scoffed. “There’s no such thing as magic!” With a sullen glare and a stubborn set to his brow, Nines was the very picture of grumpy skepticism.

Before Connor could reply, a voice spoke up from behind him.

“We live in grim times indeed, if the young are too world-weary to believe in magic.”

Connor and Nines turned to face this stranger, and started at the sight. Her face was veiled by a crimson hood, but Connor could see the milky white of her eyes set in hard scar tissue, and her skin was strikingly dark. A foreigner, in Bowerstone? Was she from Samarkand?

While Connor was struck speechless at her presence, Nines was more than eager to defend his claim.

“Look, lady, I can see your eyes are bad, but I’m telling you, that music box is garbage.”

Connor cast a glance at the music box in question, and, yeah, though he had to admit it had a pretty design, it was caked in dirt, probably rusted inside and out. It would be a miracle if the thing could still play a song.

Yet, the woman smiled at them knowingly. “That’s what the seller thinks. He has no idea what he stumbled upon. But you have an inkling, don’t you? Some part of you wants to believe it’s magic.”

Her words struck Connor like lightning. It couldn’t be. Nines had to be right, there’s no magic in the world, that’s all nonsense. But…

“Do you really think it could be?” Connor called after the woman as she turned away from them and back down the street.

She didn’t look back when she responded. “For five gold coins, you could have your answer.”

“For five gold coins, we could eat for a week,” Nines scoffed.

“Listen to me, Nines,” The woman replied, and—how did she know Nines’s name? “At the end of that week, you and your brother would be no closer to your dream—no closer to the inside of that beautiful castle.”

With that, the woman set off down the street, before vanishing in the shadows of the city.

Connor couldn’t stay silent any longer.

“But what if—” he started as Nines turned to him with a look of utter betrayal, “What if it _is_ real?” Connor ploughed on in the face of his brother’s incredulity.

“I bet we could get five gold pieces,” he continued. “Maybe this could be our way out of here after all!”

Nines looked thoroughly unconvinced.

“Come on, Nines, what is there to lose?” Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Connor’s puppy eyes could melt even his brother’s stony heart. After a few seconds of silent pleading, Nines relented with a world-worn sigh.

“Alright. There’s gotta be someone around here who’s willing to pay us gold to do something.”

* * *

They found their first job in Derek, a hapless town guard who had somehow lost his grip on five arrest warrants for five incredibly dangerous criminals, which instantly scattered in the wind and left Derek at an impasse, unable to leave his post and hunt down the rogue papers. Nines, at the tender age of ten, could not say he was impressed. They agreed to find and return the warrants in exchange for one gold coin.

“The warrants blew off in that direction, through the alley by the bloke with the picture box.” Derek pointed down the street, to where Barnum, the local would-be entrepreneur, had set up his latest enterprise.

Connor and Nines headed over to take a look. When Barnum caught sight of them, he flagged them down and asked for their help. Apparently, this “picture box” he was operating was his latest business venture; it captures people’s exact likeness and transfigures it onto a piece of paper. Barnum needed someone to take a picture of to demonstrate how it worked. It sounded rather miraculous to Connor, but if the man was willing to pay them to just stand there for a bit while the device did its thing, he wasn’t going to argue.

The boys agreed to pose for his image-capturing device in exchange for a gold. They held their positions patiently before Barnum’s device emitted a blinding flash, and Barnum cried a triumphant, “Wondrous! This thing’s gonna be more popular than the pox!”

“Now I just have to wait three months for the picture to develify and I can start showing it around. Oh, I can almost smell the gold!”

True to his word, Barnum gave them a gold coin for their help. Connor visibly couldn’t reign in his excitement.

“We’ve got our first gold coin! Come on, Nines, we’ve got to hurry and get the rest so we can buy that music box!”

Connor dragged Nines down the alley Derek’s warrants blew down, but soon they were distracted from their task by sounds of a scuffle. They could hear a group of boys jeering, and what sounded like a small animal whimpering.

Connor, ever the animal lover, took off running down the alley to confront the group.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” Connor shouted to the boy poking at a Saint Bernard puppy with a wooden sword.

“Having a bit of fun,” the jerkass kid replied. Nines had seen him around before; he thought his name was Rex. “What’s it to you?”

Rex had only just fired off the question before he headbutted Connor in the face, and then all hell broke loose.

Nines, drawing his own wooden sword, rushed Rex in defense of his brother. Rex’s friends were immediately in an uproar at the sudden assault. Nines had given Rex a good thrashing by the time the cowering boy thought to yield and he and his posse ran like the yellow-bellies they were.

In the aftermath, Nines went to Connor to ask him if he was alright, but Connor was already standing back up and shaking off his concerns.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, Nines.” 

Upright again, Connor turned towards the puppy, still backed up against the wall of the alley in fright.

“Oh, you poor thing,” he cooed. “Don’t be scared, I won’t hurt you.” 

Connor held out his hand for the dog to sniff. Evidently it must not have been on the streets long, because that’s all it took for it to fall in love with Connor. The puppy barked happily and turned its head into Connor’s palm, tail wagging fiercely.

“Oh, we can’t keep you. We barely have enough food for ourselves!” Connor told it regretfully. The puppy whined as if it understood his words.

“I’m sorry boy, but we can’t. Just get some rest, and stay warm, okay?”

With one final pat they left the dog curled up in the alley as they continued their search, Connor gazing back at it longingly as Nines remorselessly dragged him away.

They had found two of the warrants by the time they came across someone else in need of their help. 

Balthazar, one of the town merchants, was loitering nervously outside of his warehouse. “Do you need something?” Connor asked when they approached.

“Er… Sort of, yes. You kids aren’t afraid of… beetles, are you?” Balthazar replied haltingly.

Connor wrinkled his nose, sure that Nines was making the same face. Beetles, Albion’s natural target practice? “No, that would be silly.”

“Yes, silly…” Balthazar chuckled nervously. “No one’s afraid of loathsome, evil, conniving beetles…”

He cleared his throat before he continued.

“Well, since you’re not afraid, how would you like to ruthlessly exterminate a few that’re in my warehouse?”

“We’ll do it for a gold piece,” Connor offered.

“Done. I hope you make them suffer. If those hideous vermin even can suffer.”

Nines and Connor split up to deal with the vermin infestation in Balthazar’s warehouse. Nines took the relatively empty upstairs, and Connor, the older and allegedly therefore more coordinated brother, took the downstairs, where he had to be careful to shoot the beetles without damaging any of the warehouse stock. They even made a game of it, competing to see which one of them could get their floor done the fastest.

It didn’t take long for them to hunt down and destroy every last beetle, and Balthazar gratefully rewarded them with the promised gold piece.

Connor, looking down at their second gold coin in a day, couldn’t help but smile at Nines.

“We’ve got another gold coin! We’re really doing it! Only a few more until we can buy that music box.”

Only a few more, and Connor might be able give Nines a better life.

“Come on, we should get back on the hunt for those warrants.”

Or at least that was the plan, but as Connor and Nines left the warehouse, they heard the sounds of an argument across the road. As they passed by, they were stopped by the man, who exclaimed at their presence, “Hey, look at that, Betty—two sets of twins! Oh, you’ll get my booze back, won’t you?”

Apparently, the man, Pete, had a bottle of booze stolen by some guy named Magpie, and was willing to pay Connor and Nines a gold piece to get it back from him. Betty was none too pleased with the idea of Pete drinking again, and offered them her own gold coin if they returned the bottle to her instead.

They agreed to find Pete’s booze. It wasn’t hard to find the corner Magpie was dozing in. As the smaller brother, it was determined that Nines, still a whole head shorter than Connor and hating every centimeter of difference, would be the one to sneak into Magpie’s nest and swipe the pilfered bottle resting by his feet without waking him up.

Nines pulled off the maneuver without a problem, and he and Connor returned to Betty and Pete with their prize.

As they stood with the bottle before the two expectant adults, Connor couldn’t help but hesitate. He turned to Nines. “Who do you want to give it to?”

Nines considered it for a few seconds before he took the bottle from Connor’s hands and pushed it into Betty’s.

Betty took the wine with a pleased smile, before her expression shifted to surprise. “Hold it! There’s some paper in the bottle. I think this is yours.”

Sure enough, Magpie had apparently stoppered the wine bottle with one of the warrants Connor and Nines were on the lookout for. Only two left, now. Nines took the warrant from Betty and smoothed it out a bit before handing it to Connor to stash with the others.

“Thank you for your help, children!”

Connor and Nines waved the odd couple goodbye as they resumed their search, the sound of their bickering fading into the background. 

A minute later, they heard a high pitched bark, and sure enough, the puppy from before was stood, tail working furiously, right on top of the fourth of their warrants. Just as Nines went to pick it up, he saw the last one only a few feet away, and hurried to gather them both before they could escape.

“Hey, he found one for us! Good boy!” Connor knelt down to pet the puppy once again. The dog was all too eager to receive Connor’s affections, excitedly jumping into his lap and attempting to lick all over his face. Connor laughed brightly at the sensation.

“Oh, I know. You’re sweet,” he told it. His eyes turned sad as Nines started scratching the puppy’s head, offering his own attention. “But I told you before, we can’t keep you.”

They stayed with the dog for a few more minutes before Nines pulled away. “Come on, Connor. We’ve found all the warrants. We need to give them back to the guard and then we’ll only have one gold to go.”

Connor sighed and straightened, ready to follow his brother. They left the puppy on the side of the street with one last look before heading back the way they came.

They and the warrants made it back to Derek in one piece, the former perhaps a bit wine stained. Derek didn’t seem to mind, and gave them his thanks for saving his job along with their fourth gold coin.

They only needed one more. If something were to go wrong, now would be the time, Connor couldn’t help but worry.

But his worries appeared to be in vain, because they had barely left Derek when they came across a villager in need of assistance. This man, Monty, asked them to deliver a letter to his girlfriend Belinda without letting her mother see it. He promised that Belinda would pay them a gold coin upon its successful delivery.

They knocked on the door to Belinda’s house, but it was her mother that answered the door. She let them in, and Connor shoved the letter at Nines, who rushed upstairs as quietly as he could and delivered it safely to Belinda, who rewarded them with their final gold coin.

Nines rocketed down the stairs, and Connor took off running after him. They fled the house and ran straight to Murgo’s wagon, unwilling to risk sticking around to witness the drama that had started to unfold in their wake.

When they finally stopped, giddy and heaving for breath, Connor beamed over at Nines. “We did it! Now we have enough to buy the music box!”

Nines heaved, side-eyeing his brother. After a few more steadying breaths, he closed his eyes and sighed. “Are you sure you want to do this? Spend five whole gold coins on a supposedly ‘magic’ box?”

Connor already knew the answer, but he thought it through again anyway.

“What that woman said was right. We could just spend what we’ve earned on food, but that would be no different from what we do any other day. In the end, we’d still be stuck out on the streets, with nothing to eat and nowhere to go.”

Nines grimaced at the grim reality of their situation spoken aloud like that. “Still, we got really lucky today. Usually we can’t find a single person who’ll pay us to do something. We probably won’t see this much gold for the rest of the year.”

Connor knew that. He knew that he and Nines needed to eat. He knew how unbelievably lucky they had been to be able to amass so much gold in such a short period of time.

He knew that magic couldn’t be real.

But what if it was?

What if the reason they were suddenly able to earn so much gold—just the right amount—what if it was _fate_?

Connor couldn’t turn his back on it.

Not now. Not with the echo of the woman’s words still ringing in his head.

Connor turned towards Nines with eyes alight with determination. “I’m sure.”

Nines sighed. “Then let’s buy this damned box.”

* * *

They bought the box from Murgo and carried it carefully back to their home base. The deposited it carefully on a crate by the edge of the road overlooking the massive Castle Fairfax, eager to turn the handle and make their wish.

“Remember, he said we have to turn the handle three times, and then we make the wish,” Connor fretted.

Nines rolled his eyes and replied scornfully, “If this thing is magic, I seriously doubt ‘Murgo the Magnificent’ or whatever he’s called actually knows how it works.”

Connor had to concede the point, but it couldn’t hurt to be careful.

“Alright, alright, let—let me do it,” Connor shooed Nines away from the music box once it looked like they’d managed to situate it right side up and correctly identified which way to turn the handle.

Slowly, Connor wound the mechanism, and closed his eyes. “I wish… I wish…”

As Connor turned the handle, the top of the music box folded open, and a sweet tune started to play. It was a very nice melody.

It was the most beautiful thing Nines had ever heard.

As the music box shifted, a bright light shone from within, creating an almost ephemeral glow.

Connor had stepped back by this point, the music box not needing more than a few twists to get going, and Nines started to think that perhaps Connor was right, perhaps this piece of scrap really was magic.

But then, the music box started to turn. As it spun around faster and faster, the sweet notes turned sour and wrong, and the light coming from within went from a soft yellow to a blaring red. It started to fizzle and crackle, and a second later, it vanished with a snap and a flash of light.

“What… Where did it go?” Connor looked around them. “Why are we still _here_?”

Connor groaned, realizing their failure. “Five gold pieces…” Nines reached out and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. He could tell how much this meant to Connor, even if he didn’t know why it mattered so much.

“I should’ve listened to you,” Connor admitted, regretful.

Nines shook his head. “No, you were right. Maybe not to buy that hunk of junk, but you’re right that nothing will change if we don’t make it. It didn’t work this time, but maybe someday, it will.”

Connor smiled down at Nines. Sometimes he could hardly believe that Nines was the younger brother.

Connor would have to step up his game.

“C’mon, Nines. Let’s go home.”

Nines smiled.

“Home” for them was, unfortunately, nothing much to speak of; they had laid claim to what Connor supposed was the foundation of a shed once upon a time, though now existed as nothing more than a raised wooden platform tucked between two brick buildings.

Nines liked to tell him he thought it used to be a gallows, because he had a terrible sense of humor.

As they approached, however, they were greeted by a small and fluffy surprise. The St. Bernard puppy that was following them around earlier had somehow tracked them all the way back to their home base, and was looking quite pleased about it.

Connor and Nines stopped short when they saw it. “What are you doing here? I’m sure I didn’t wish for you,” Connor smiled. Leave it to small, furry animals to melt his brother’s heart in the worst of times.

The puppy bounded up to Connor and started jumping at his leg, trying to climb up his body and reach his magic hands. “All right, I give in,” Connor laughed happily. “Welcome to our little paradise.”

Nines moved past his brother as Connor reached down to pet the dog behind the ears and flopped down on his blanket. It had been a long day, and Connor was no doubt just as exhausted as he was. They’d have to figure out what to do about food tomorrow, but they’d done a lot of work today—maybe someone would put in a good word for them.

They’d survive one day at a time, just like they always do.

Nines dozed off in minutes, and Connor, once he had pried the excitable puppy off of him, took to his own blanket soon after.

* * *

_"I managed to find a nice piece of charcoal this morning, so I can finally start writing again. I still haven't finished putting down the story about the warrior girl who fights snow monsters. Nines always likes listening to that one—sends him right to sleep!_

_It's not so easy for me. Winter is getting colder and soon our shelter won't be anywhere near enough. We'll freeze to death if we don't find something better. And the family of travelers who let us stay in their caravan last winter haven't come back this year. It was nice having someone to look after us for a change._

_If only we could find some secret passage into the castle... We're small enough that no one would notice us. We'd be like ghosts, or like mice, hiding in the walls. We'd tip-toe out when everyone goes to bed and raid the larder. I bet they have so much food in there, they'd never even notice. Bah, day-dreaming isn't going to get us anywhere. You have to think of something, Connor. You're the big brother, remember?"_

—Connor’s Diary

* * *

They were awoken in the middle of the night by the puppy doing its level best to growl at an intruder.

“Ooh. All right, settle down, there’s a nice… angry stray dog…”

Upon closer inspection, Nines could see that it’s one of the guards, but he had no idea what the man could be doing there. They weren’t getting kicked out, were they?

Nines hurriedly righted himself, and in the corner of his eye could see Connor doing the same. Seeing them, the guard shifted from trying to pacify the tiny beast before him and finally addressed Connor and Nines.

“What do you want?” Connor asked him.

“I work for Lord Elijah, sir. And he would very much like to see you in his castle. I’ve been sent to collect you.”

Connor couldn’t contain his naked shock. As the guard turned away and went to wait for them further down the road, Connor looked to Nines with exhilaration. “It did work! Our wish came true!”

Nines could hardly believe it. He didn’t know what his face was doing, but if it was doing anything, Connor was certainly too excited to notice. Connor grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards the guard—one of Lord Elijah’s _personal guard_ , holy shit—but was stopped by the puppy, whimpering sadly at their feet.

Connor reached down to placate it. “It’s alright, doggie. We’re going to Lord Elijah’s castle!”

The dog didn’t seem very reassured by this. It whined pitifully, nudging Connor’s foot with its nose. Connor’s expression softened. “I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

Connor sealed the deal with a wet kiss to the top of the puppy’s head, and Nines barely got to give the dog his own head pat goodbye before Connor was back to towing him across the road like their lives depended on it.

They met back up with the guard, and were guided into a carriage. They rode through the winding cobblestone streets up and up and up, towards Fairfax Gardens and the looming castle.

They never let go of each other’s hands. Neither of them could forget what had happened the last time they rode in a carriage.

Half an hour later they were let out in front of the great stone steps of the castle, and took several minutes to simply stare up at its gargantuan facade while the adults milled around them and put all their affairs in order.

Before too long the guards stood back and they were handed off to a poshly dressed but otherwise rather plain looking man who nevertheless stood straight enough to give the impression of relevance.

“I am Lord Elijah’s butler,” the man said. “You may call me Jeeves.”

Connor’s eyes widened and his hand flew to his mouth in a vain attempt to stifle a mirthful chuckle. Nines stared at the man in disbelief, his eyes narrowing further the longer the butler kept a straight face.

But evidently Lord Elijah’s butler was really named _Jeeves_ , the most butler-y butler name to ever exist, because the man appeared to take no notice of their strange reactions and, after waiting the polite few seconds of acknowledgement deemed proper for these sorts of introductions, simply turned and started leading the way. “Come along now, children. Lord Elijah awaits.”

Connor and Nines were shocked still for a moment, the weight of those words sinking into them, before they regained their senses all at once and nearly tripped over themselves to race after him.

In the back of his mind, Nines worried that Jeeves might snap at them for running off ahead like the rambunctious children they were, but he seemed content to let them thump across the floors and marvel at their surroundings, continuing at his own pace.

They ran laps around the rotunda overlooking the courtyard before stopping to peer over the side when they needed a pause to catch their breath. A single tree rose up from the ground below, almost picturesque in its beauty, and Connor almost fell over the side trying to reach up and touch one of its branches. Nines frantically hauled him back to safety, and they lost their breath once again in fits of dazed giggles as they lay sprawled across the hallway floor.

By the time they had righted themselves, Jeeves had already made it to the entrance to the great hall. Again, the brothers sped after him, and soon overtook him to gaze in awe at the magnificent space, trying not to run into any columns in their excitement.

They dawdled for a good five minutes wondering at the intricately woven scarlet rug and the perfectly polished suits of armor lining the walls and the dazzling chandeliers dangling from the ceiling. Jeeves was halfway up the winding spiral staircase that would take them towards Lord Elijah’s study by the time he finally called for them to move along.

The boys rushed to obey him, and took the steps of the staircase two at a time in their haste to catch up; a decision that they both regretted quite quickly when they had to slow their pace, heaving for breath, while Jeeves plodded onward, the picture of nonchalance. 

Luckily, the two managed to recover themselves and keep up with the butler, and before long, they were standing in front of the doors to the hallway leading to the tower housing Lord Elijah’s study.

They were led through the doors, and this section of the castle proved to be no less magnificent than the last. Connor and Nines once again lost themselves in gazing at its splendor as they passed by.

“We both look up at this castle every day and think about how nice it is,” Connor told Jeeves. “But inside, it’s even more beautiful than I imagined!”

Jeeves nodded appreciatively, as if Connor’s praise could somehow be attributed to the butler himself. “It is quite wonderful, isn’t it?”

Jeeves said nothing further, and the brothers, distracted by the magnificent paintings and tall windows lining the corridor, didn’t notice another man’s approach until the butler’s comment alerted them to his presence.

“Ah, hello, Master Markus,” Jeeves nodded to the man as he passed by, though he offered no response, simply breezing past as a startled Nines and Connor made way for him.

Nines stared after the man, puzzled. He was wearing such strange clothes. And his skin—it looked as if his veins were glowing blue.

But that couldn’t be possible, could it?

Nines shook the thought away, and a glance at Connor suggested his brother was doing the same.

“Huh. Man of few words,” Jeeves mumbled, clearly miffed at being snubbed, and they proceeded along the hallway towards the study.

Some seconds of silence passed, and it was just enough time for Connor’s mind to circle back around to food.

“So where is the grand dining hall?” He asked, and Nines, as no one was watching, did not hesitate to roll his eyes in exasperation.

Jeeves responded without pause. “Oh, in the north wing. Lord Elijah hasn’t been in there since…” He hesitated for a second before continuing. “Since the tragic deaths of Lady Chloe and little Amelia.”

Connor’s steps faltered at the words. His tone laced with regret. “We heard. That was so awful.”

Everyone heard. The disease had hit the first winter that Nines and Connor had spent in Bowerstone. They had spent weeks in terror as it plowed through street after street, building after building, inching closer and closer to the orphanage each day. The news of Lady and Miss Kamski’s deaths to the sickness came the same week Connor started to seriously consider taking Nines and fleeing the city to escape it.

Connor and Nines were lucky; the disease stopped its spread in a house two streets down from the orphanage. They didn’t need to flee.

The Kamskis were less so.

But Nines shook his head of such morbid thoughts, and tried to focus back in on the present.

“Yes, he misses them terribly,” Jeeves confided.

A thought struck Nines. “But then where does he eat?” If one is lucky enough to have a grand dining hall, well, it would be a grand shame to waste it.

“Actually, he takes most of his meals in his study. He’s in there working all hours, doing research…”

Connor’s ears perked up, not unlike the way that puppy’s did not a day earlier. “What does he research?”

“History, mostly. Lord Elijah is quite keen on antiquities of all sorts, but he is chiefly interested in things relating to the Old Kingdom.”

Nines’s thoughts flashed back to Murgo and his wares. At the same time, Connor replied, “There was a trader in Old Town who said his stuff was from the Old Kingdom.”

“Yes… Yes. I believe Lord Elijah… Heard about that,” Jeeves responded, with a strange hesitancy in his voice.

Connor didn’t seem to notice it. “We bought a piece of it, and we made a wish, and now we’re here!”

And all because an old blind lady had somehow been able to tell exactly which of Murgo’s stock was the genuine article, Nines couldn’t help but think. Whether the wish they made had worked or not, there’s no denying that the music box they bought had been some kind of magic, what with how it did its little light show before disappearing into thin air.

How did she know?

“That’s wonderful,” Jeeves said, and his voice snapped Nines out of his musings. “Now, when you meet Lord Elijah, you must show respect at all times.”

The shift in Jeeves’s tone from obliging to no-nonsense was audible and abrupt.

“Address him as ‘my lord.’ Speak only when spoken to.” He looked pointedly at each of them in turn.

“Yes, sir,” Connor nodded sincerely. Nines inclined his own head in understanding.

Jeeves acknowledged their agreement before adding, “And do not mention Lady Chloe or Amelia,” while moving to approach the study doors.

Nines scrunched up his nose. Well, that’s pretty much a given, isn’t it?

“Here we are,” Jeeves announced upon their arrival in front of the study. “Lord Elijah?” He called, before pushing the large doors inward. “The children are here.”

Nines and Connor stepped slowly inside, distracted as they were by the room’s beauty. In comparison to the other areas of the castle that they had seen, it was perhaps not as magnificent, but it carried its own charm nonetheless. Evidence of Lord Elijah’s studies and interests in Old Kingdom history littered the tables; scrolls and telescopes and assorted baubles covered every elevated surface. The walls were lined with bookshelves, stuffed to the brim with all sorts of colorful tomes.

Nines wanted to run his fingers across the spines. And if _Nines_ was feeling the pull of them, well, he knew that Connor must be barely withholding his own desire to make off with as many as he could carry.

Just to be safe, Nines smacked his brother on the arm in warning, and Connor shot him a petulant glare in response, clearly caught out. They’d come this far, Nines wouldn’t have Connor getting any ideas that would ruin their chances of Lord Elijah taking them in.

Maybe if they asked nicely, he’d eventually let Connor and Nines read some of them.

But while the books were breathtaking, the enormous stained glass window taking up the entire far wall was unparalleled in its beauty. Even at night, the faint light the moon and stars cast through the glass created an intricate tapestry of pale color at the boys’ feet. 

Nines had literally never seen anything like it.

He wasn’t sure if he ever would again.

He was lost in its intricate design when he heard Lord Elijah’s voice for the first time.

“Children!” He addressed them eagerly, finally turning away from one of his tables of papers and scrolls. Connor and Nines hurried to face him, standing straight and attempting to grant him their full attention.

“It’s come to my attention that you have some sort of magic box.” He clasped his hands together and smiled at them lightly. “May I see it?”

Nines looked to his brother worriedly, and Connor’s expression clearly conveyed his regret. “It vanished, my lord,” he admitted. “We were winding it up, and we made a wish, and then it started to glow, and it disappeared!” Connor grew more animated as he described what happened, before attempting to depict the box’s disappearing act by gesticulating a sort of exploding motion with his hands. He looked to Lord Elijah to see if the message was being received.

“After you used it?” the lord asked.

Connor, relieved that Lord Elijah trusted in his explanation, nodded.

“Yes, my lord. The man who sold it to us said it was magic.”

Normally, Nines would be somewhat ashamed to entertain such ideas like magic in front of someone of Lord Elijah’s stature, but the thing vanished into thin air. There really aren’t many other ways to explain what had happened. Thankfully, Lord Elijah seemed willing to give a pair of penniless orphans the benefit of the doubt.

Accordingly, Lord Elijah inclined his head, as if such an outcome left him unsurprised.

“The box is of no interest to me; what’s remarkable is that you were able to use it.”

He looked at both of them appraisingly, as if pleased or impressed by what he saw. It filled Nines with an unfamiliar feeling of warmth inside. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone other than his parents or Connor had sincerely praised him for something, had truly thought that he’d done something well. Maybe Lord Elijah could be a nice person after all.

“What was your wish?” He asked them.

Connor flushed crimson, and Nines wasn’t doing much better. He turned his head away to make his red cheeks less visible.

“Well, speak up—what did you wish for?” Lord Elijah insisted.

“To live in a castle,” Connor admitted through his heated cheeks. “Like this one.”

Well, this was embarrassing, Nines thought. Confessing a pauper’s dreams to a lord was akin to pulling teeth.

Connor had to do that for him once, and he frowned as he remembered. His baby tooth was hanging on by a sliver of flesh and just wouldn’t come loose. His mouth had hurt for a week after Connor had forcibly removed it. For half of that week, Nines had had to stuff his mouth with one of Connor’s old socks to keep it from bleeding.

Washed, thankfully.

But upon hearing their confession, Lord Elijah only chuckled.

“Perhaps that could be arranged.”

Nines’s heart just about stopped in his chest. From the way his brother had frozen beside him, he was willing to bet that Connor’s did just the same.

Lord Elijah continued before they could respond. “I’m working to rebuild—” He cut himself off for a second. “Well, I’m working on something wonderful, for which I need individuals with particular talents.”

Nines had no idea what particular talents he or his brother might possess, aside from perhaps childish lunacy, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth here.

“Let us find out if you possess them.”

Lord Elijah stepped aside and gestured towards the round dias in front of the gorgeous stained glass window still casting colorful fragments of light upon the study floor. “Would you kindly stand in the circle, please?” He asked.

Connor hesitated, confused by the request, and Nines looked to his brother. What could standing on a circle do to prove whether or not they had such ‘particular talents?’ But Lord Elijah was quick to reassure them.

“I promise, it won’t hurt you.”

His assurance steadied Connor, and he and Nines carefully made their way to the dias. They stepped onto the circle, tense, unsure of what to expect. 

And then all of a sudden, with a bright flash, the symbol engraved onto the dias began to glow blue beneath their feet.

Connor gasped, and Nines’s heart stuttered.

“What’s that?” Connor asked worriedly, looking around at the light surrounding them. Like Lord Elijah had promised, it didn’t hurt, but standing in the glow was disorienting.

“Nothing to worry about,” Lord Elijah insisted.

Specks of light started rising from the circle they stood in, and an expression of wondrous delight overtook Lord Elijah’s features.

“It’s true,” he breathed. “Your blood—you are Heroes.”

The blue light was completely surrounding them now, cutting them off from Lord Elijah. Nines was starting to worry. He didn’t like this. He moved closer to Connor, grasping his sleeve, trying to ground himself.

“Heroes?” Connor questioned, unlike his brother, still more curious than anxious. “You mean like in the old stories?”

One of the only things he could remember now about his parents was the stories of Heroes they used to tell him and Connor. Despite his mounting panic, he smiled at the memory.

But Heroes were awesome figures, great stalwart defenders of Albion and its people. There’s no way that he and Connor, children of two modest villagers, could carry the blood of the epic Heroes of old.

Surely, Lord Elijah would realize that, and then they could step out of this blindingly suffocating light, right?

The lord extended his hand towards them, and for one second Nines thought that he was right, Lord Elijah had realized that he was mistaken, and they could get off of the dias now.

But the moment Lord Elijah’s hand came into contact with where the light was separating them, the glow shifted from an oppressive blue to an angry red, and zapped his hand where he tried to touch.

With a cry of pain, Lord Elijah withdrew his hand, and Connor gasped in fright. Nines’s body locked beside him, and he moved even closer to Connor, grasping his sleeve as tight as he could.

“What are you?” Lord Elijah snarled at them. Nines’s heart sunk. Something was wrong.

Connor started to move in front of Nines as Lord Elijah seemed to become lost in his own murmurings.

“Wait. There was, there was something here…”

He started rifling through the documents on a nearby table, muttering to himself softly enough that Connor and Nines couldn’t hear.

“My lord, what happened?” Connor asked, pushing Nines behind him, to Nines’s distress. “What’s this light? Why’d it change color? Did it hurt you just now?”

“Quiet!” Lord Elijah demanded. Connor quieted instantly, fear lancing through him at his tone.

“You’re Heroes—but you’re not any of the three...” They could hear Lord Elijah murmuring. “One of you is the fourth.”

Then, as Lord Elijah rose from the table, he withdrew a pistol from its depths.

Connor immediately shoved Nines behind him with as much force as he could muster.

“What’s happening?” He pleaded, desperately trying to look for a way out, to stall for time. They were still trapped in the red glow. Connor didn’t know if touching it would burn them like it did Elijah.

He didn’t know if it would stop a bullet.

Lord Elijah pointed the gun at Connor.

“This isn’t what I wanted—but nothing must stand in my way.”

“No, wait! Don’t!” Nines cried, and he shoved his way out from behind his brother.

Nines had hoped to distract Elijah, but the gun’s sights remained on Connor, who stood stock still, frozen in fear.

“No!” Nines yelled, but he was too late.

The sound of his screams mingled with the bang of the gunshot as Lord Elijah fired.

Connor crumbled, blood spilling out from the hole in his side and staining the dias below.

“Connor!”

Nines raced to his brother and crumpled at his side. The light from below was so red he couldn’t tell where the blood ended and the glow began. He could feel tears flowing freely down his cheeks, but he couldn’t feel them well. They simply poured forth, ceaselessly, dripping onto Connor’s clothes as Nines grasped his hand, calling his name, begging him to stay alive.

Connor’s open eyes stared unseeingly through the stained glass window.

It seemed like an eternity Nines sat there, wailing beside his brother, before he heard Connor’s murderer speak. 

“I can’t allow you to live either.”

Nines looked towards Lord Elijah only to see the gun turned on him.

Nines stood and started backing away, more scared than he had ever been in his life. He tried to put as much distance between himself and the weapon as possible, but his back hit the window, and he could go no further.

“I’m sorry.”

Another gunshot resounded, and Connor’s glassy eyes watched as Nines’s small body was thrust through the beautiful stained glass, shattering it entirely, before plummeting off the side of the tower to the town dozens of meters below.

* * *

On the streets of Bowerstone, though his body lay battered and broken, a young Hero’s fingers twitched with life.

A blind woman, cloaked in red, emerged from the shadows to stand before him.

“Death is not your destiny today, little Sparrow.”


	2. The Hero of Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines, after the devastating loss of his brother, trains to become a Hero so he may someday avenge Connor's death.
> 
> To that end, he must find and recruit the Hero of Strength.

_“Elijah disappeared from Castle Fairfax that night, certain that those who might stand in his way were dead._

_But some grief is so great, even death may keep its distance._

_And so the boy survived._

_Days later, far from the dark alleys of Bowerstone, life slowly returned to his small, broken body. The boy awoke to a familiar face watching over a strange bed. He reached out for the comfort of the woman’s hand, ready to take his first steps in a new life._

_Ten winters blanketed Albion, ten summers filled the air with the sounds of insects and laughter._

_With time, the boy’s pain turned to strength. His grief became will. A will to change the world._

_And to avenge the death that still haunted his every dream.”_

* * *

The woman who saved Nines’s life was named Amanda.

It was days of fitful delirium before Nines was conscious enough to learn it.

For weeks, he didn’t speak whatsoever outside of the noises of agony that slipped out when his breathing jostled another cracked rib. He asked no questions, thinking it useless. Death was sure to finally overcome him, and any knowledge he gained would be wasted, with only more pain from the effort brought upon him for it.

He felt nothing but pain, inside and out. With every excruciating breath, Nines wanted his brother.

In those first few weeks, Nines truly wished to die.

But death did not come. Two months after Amanda took him in, he had healed enough that most of the pain had subsided, and he had to face the facts. Nines was still here, and Connor…

Connor wasn’t.

He didn’t cry. It made him feel like a monster. He knew he should be able to. Nines had loved his brother more than anything in the world. He’d sit up in his sickbed for hours wondering why he couldn’t muster up the tears.

Amanda helped him recover. Under her care, Nines’s body slowly healed. Though she could do nothing about the great chasm Connor’s death had scored through his heart, it was her work alone that ensured Nines was eventually able to achieve a full recovery.

Three months after the night Connor was murdered, Nines was mobile enough to venture outside the small room Amanda had been keeping him in. She had taken him to a traveler’s camp in Bower Lake not far outside the city.

A pang of nostalgia hit Nines as he took in the snow-covered caravans clustered along the hillside. He remembered it was only two winters ago that he and Connor had spent the season safe, warm, and looked after in one of those.

It was the first fond memory he’d had since that night.

At four months, Nines was fully healed, with only a round scar on his side to show for his suffering. Even that Amanda said should fade with time.

The day after Nines got the all-clear from Amanda, he started to train. He had very nearly lost himself to despair those months ago when he realized that he was going to survive. Then he remembered. Connor was gone, but his killer ran free.

Nines did have something to live for.

He would avenge his brother.

And so, ten years passed.

* * *

It was a beautiful summer’s day when Amanda sent Nines off on a Hero’s journey.

He hardly felt ready, but as much as he hungered for Elijah’s blood on his blade, he knew he never would.

First she sent him over to a tomb situated on a small island in the middle of Bower Lake. Honestly, he was more than a little annoyed that the very first thing he had to do as a Hero was get all of his clothes sopping wet with lakewater. But the sun was shining, the lake was pleasantly cool, and soon enough Nines was plodding through the tomb, slaughtering beetles, and accidentally stepping on the dessicated corpses of the intrepid explorers who’d ventured in years before him.

Curious, Nines had been reading the diaries they’d left behind. Evidently, if he ever went spelunking with friends or colleagues, he would do well not to drink anything he hadn’t prepared himself.

Amanda guided him through the caves, her voice coming in clear through the Guild Seal she had gifted him. Some hours later, he emerged in a grand cavern, where Amanda was waiting for him.

Upon bringing Nines to what remained of the Heroes’ Guild, she taught him the basics of Will. Nines listened attentively, and once he could toss a fireball accurately enough to hit a flit switch, she sent him off again.

Having achieved the most basic proficiency in magic, Nines set off for Bowerstone, the city of his childhood. But upon reaching the road that would take him there, he was stopped by a guard manning a barricade.

A bandit had made enough of a nuisance of himself attacking travelers that the city guard had seen fit to close down the road. Until this bandit was killed, no one could pass through.

And so, Nines took up his first Heroic deed. He slid down the slope to the bandits’ camp and steeled himself for his first true fight.

When blades clashed, Nines was shocked at how easy it was to mow his enemies down. He had spent many years training, sparred with experienced fighters and swordsmen of the traveler’s camp many times, but now, for the first time and with merely a swing of his blade, he crippled and maimed.

He killed one bandit in a single stroke, slicing his sword into his neck. Nines could hardly register that he’d taken his first life.

He didn’t like the feeling at all, but he hadn’t expected it to be so easy.

He had no time to dwell. After the first wave of bandits came another, and then another. Nines never tired, and through it all he marveled at his own strength. This must be what it meant to bear the blood of a Hero.

Finally, out came Thag, the bandit leader. Though stronger than his subordinates, Nines had no issue tearing through him just the same.

Nines found a journal in Thag’s cabin once he’d been properly dispatched. He’d been in contact with Lord Elijah, selling him the traders and travelers he’d captured along the road to Bowerstone, no doubt so Elijah could put them to work on his Spire.

The edges of the journal warped in Nines’s grip.

Nines made sure to free the last of Thag’s prisoners before he left again for Bowerstone. Seeing them in cages brought back old nightmares; after they died, he used to dream of his parents being taken prisoner by bandits, locked behind bars, sold into slavery, never to see their children again.

Waking violently from those terrifying dreams, clinging to Connor as his brother soothed him, he could almost consider it a mercy that their parents suffered quick deaths.

* * *

No sooner did Nines crest the hill to the gates of Bowerstone than he was accosted by a bard. The bard, Roland, had apparently heard of Nines’s exploits over in Thag’s bandit camp and was most impressed. Nines was decidedly less impressed by Roland’s lyrical talent, or lack thereof.

Nines escaped the attentions of the overzealous musician as quick as he could.

He met up with Amanda in the Town Square. They walked through the streets of Bowerstone as she explained the next steps Nines must take to bring down Elijah.

He was to locate three other Heroes and secure their assistance in his quest.

“I have seen a vision of a holy ritual in Oakfield. Salvation, though bittersweet, is delivered by one of incredible strength. Speak to the Abbot at the Temple of Light and see what you can learn of this pilgrim.”

Amanda had told Nines a little about herself while he was lying on his sickbed all those years ago. Though she was still largely a woman of mystery, her visions she had been most forthcoming with. All her life, she had been able to see flashes of the future; being blinded by Jack of Blades hadn’t affected her prophetic powers in the least.

She foresaw that Nines would survive his encounter with Elijah. She saw that he’d be the one to cut him down someday.

Nines took some small measure of comfort in that.

* * *

Nines headed into Bowerstone Old Town on his way to Rookridge Road, which would take him to Oakfield. He was stopped just as he entered by a familiar face.

Derek, the guard he and Connor collected those warrants for all those years ago, was now the sheriff of Old Town, where Connor and Nines used to live. Derek expressed his thanks for their help, and attributed his appointment to sheriff to their assistance. Apparently, upon arresting five of Albion’s most dangerous criminals, Lord Elijah was impressed enough to grant Derek the post sometime before he vanished into the night.

Derek soon bid him goodbye with a cheery wave, and Nines was left to gaze at the streets of his former home in amazement.

To say Old Town had changed would be an understatement. Nines had expected being back to conjure all sorts of bittersweet memories, but looking around, he only felt a vague sense of shock.

The power of gentrification.

Apparently, after Derek cleaned up the streets, Old Town became the place to live. Though it used to be one of the more humble neighborhoods of Bowerstone, it looked to be pretty high-end, now. People had _gardens_.

Nines’s wonderment was enough to carry him through to Rookridge Road while keeping the grief at bay, and he was grateful for it. By the time he left the city, he was able to shake off those lingering thoughts and set his sights on Oakfield.

* * *

Bandits had set up regular haunts on Rookridge Road, but Nines had no trouble dispatching them. He became more familiar with the weight of his pistol in his hand as he felled several trying to pick him off from a hillside.

On his way to circumventing a collapsed bridge, Nines came across a desperate father calling out for his son. The father, Herman, asked Nines to accompany him through the nearby cave. Herman’s son had gone in, and hadn’t yet come out.

Nines saw no reason to refuse, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of wrongness that settled about him.

In the cave, Nines fought annoying little creatures called Hobbes for the first time. They were so low to the ground, it was hard to chop them in half. It was a good workout, and Nines had no trouble protecting Herman.

They advanced through the cave. They entered a cavern soaked in blood and littered with bones; Herman, unable to stomach the sight or smell, vomited.

Nines’s feeling of wrongness worsened.

Still, they progressed.

A few caverns later, a Hobbe noise echoed through the caves.

“That’s Joey! That’s my son!”

When Nines caught up with Herman, he found the way was blocked by a locked door. Nines left to find another way around, but by the time he got back, the door was already open.

Herman was on his knees, gazing at the Hobbe across from him in despair.

Nines drew his sword, uncomprehending. 

The Hobbe ran off at the sight of him, and Nines went to Herman.

“I was too late! He was… They turned my son into…”

The man didn’t say any more before he collapsed, dead.

Of course, Nines had heard the stories. He just hadn’t thought they’d been true, either.

* * *

Nines did his best to put what happened in the Hobbe Cave out of his mind once he finally surfaced somewhere on the other side of the bridge. It was only half a day’s walk to Oakfield, now, and no more bandits to slow the way.

* * *

Nines arrived in Oakfield and headed straight for the Abbot, eager to find and recruit the Hero of Strength. 

Amanda told him of the town’s history as he drew closer to the Temple of Light.

“Oakfield is among the lushest regions of Albion. It owes its fertility to the extraordinary Golden Oak, which lives only for a few decades, before producing a single golden acorn. The monks of the Temple of Light replant this acorn, and as the tree is reborn, so are all the lands and farms around.”

This year’s ritual was fast approaching, and the Abbot was reportedly quite nervous. If Nines could help him, he might point them towards the first Hero.

As Nines ascended to the temple, he caught a conversation on the wind.

“Father, the sacred texts clearly say that only two monks may enter the cave. No one else.”

“I’ll not send my only child into unknown dangers without any protection! I will find an escort, and that’s the end of it.”

Nines crossed the threshold into the temple, eager to offer his services, but to his surprise, the Abbot refused him.

“Yes… You look imposing alright, but I can’t entrust our community’s survival to a complete stranger.

“You know, Rookridge has been having a terrible time with bandits lately. Why don’t you see if you can do anything about them?”

Nines frowned. More bandits? Where were they all coming from? But he nodded politely to the Abbot without argument, and set out for the local watering hole. Surely someone there would be able to direct him where to start rooting out the bandit infestation.

A walk through the idyllic forests of Oakfield soon landed him at The Sandgoose. Nines had scarcely entered the building before he heard a distantly familiar voice.

“Oh, dear… How could this happen?”

Nines looked up, and could hardly believe his eyes. Up on the second floor balcony was none other than Barnum, the town eccentric that had paid him and Connor a gold piece to pose for his picture machine all those years ago.

Nines raced up the steps to him, eager to reunite with a familiar face.

To his excitement, Barnum was quite happy to see him as well. “Look at you now, all grown up! My, you’ve gotten so big! A proper adventurer, too! I bet that brother of yours is very proud.”

Nines smiled wanly and brushed off the praise. Eager to change the subject, he asked what Barnum was doing in Oakfield.

The floodgates broke, and Barnum revealed the entirety of his tale of misfortune. The man, bless his heart, had been tricked by the Rookridge bandits into buying a fake deed for the bridge that spanned the river, and no sooner had Barnum handed over every last gold he owned for it than the bandits blew up the bridge.

It was pretty clear that Barnum wouldn’t get his money back, but Nines could at least take care of the bandits in the area so the bridge could be rebuilt, and passage back to Bowerstone reopened.

Nines insisted on buying Barnum a drink before he left again for Rookridge, and he spent the evening listening and laughing at tales of Barnum’s many wild adventures over their shared table.

* * *

Nines spent the night in a room at The Sandgoose and headed out at the very crack of dawn. At a quick pace, he was back in front of the bridge by noon.

Thankfully, he didn’t need to do any searching. He found the bandits on lookout in front of the bridge and followed them to their leader.

Dash, the man called himself, danced out of reach of Nines’s blade as his men fruitlessly flung themselves at the Hero.

It made no difference to Nines. He’d cut them all down eventually, no matter how far they ran.

Nines chased Dash and his lackeys through The Lucky Heather, across the train tracks, and up into the hills of Rookridge. His sword was dripping red; not a spot of rusty metal to be seen.

Once he’d finally dispatched the last of Dash’s crew, he managed to corner the man himself cowering atop a standing stone, certain that if Nines’s blade couldn’t reach him, he’d be safe from the Hero’s wrath.

Nines drew his pistol and shot the bandit down.

* * *

Nines returned triumphant to Oakfield the next day.

Nines rendezvoused with Barnum to report his success. Concerned, he asked what the man planned to do from here, but despite his losses, Barnum was as cheerful as ever. “I’ll get back on my feet, don’t you worry. I always do!”

Nines was just about to say his goodbyes and leave for the Abbot again when Barnum grabbed him by the sleeve.

“Wait! I almost forgot. I planned to use this as a model photograph back when I started up my picture-taking business, but, well, I told you how that went, and I certainly don’t need it anymore. Here.”

Barnum rummaged around for a bit before he carefully removed something from his pack and pressed it into Nines’s hand.

Nines looked down at it, and his breath caught in his throat.

It was—well, Nines had never actually seen one before, but this had to be a picture. The one Barnum took of him and Connor ten years ago.

Nines’s eyes misted over as he gazed at the black and white image, and he reverently ran his thumb over the edge. It lacked color, but it was an otherwise perfect recreation.

It was the first time he had seen his brother’s face since he died.

Nines couldn’t hold back the tears, and they fell.

* * *

Nines resumed his trek back up to the Temple of Light after recollecting himself and some quick reassurances to Barnum, who was more than surprised at his show of tears. Nines bid the man farewell, eager to resume his quest, and Barnum did the same, with the promise that they’d meet again somewhere around Albion.

Nines crossed the threshold of the temple and, crossing his fingers, stood before the Abbot once more.

This time, his hopes were not disappointed.

“It’s you! I prayed for your return.”

Nailed it.

“I heard what you did in Rookridge! I think you could be of great use to us.”

Nines frowned. He didn’t like the idea of being used, but it came with the territory of being a hero, he supposed.

“Come, walk with me.” The Abbot led the way back out of the temple and Nines obeyed, following close behind. The Abbot talked as they descended the path curving down the side of the temple.

“Now, nourishing the Golden Acorn is done with holy water from the Wellspring of Light. But the spring is located in a nearby cave, which is said to be quite dangerous.” The Abbot waved a hand in the direction of the forest at the foot of the temple, where the cave was presumably located.

“Our sacred text says two monks must enter this cave; the strongest, and a second of the Abbot’s choosing. Obviously this concerns me, especially since the strongest monk here is my own child.”

Well, there was a plot twist. Nines was starting to see where this was going. Perhaps if he was lucky, this monk would prove to be the Hero of Strength he was looking for.

“So instead of a second monk, I have chosen to send a protector for the first. And that’s you… if you’re interested.”

The Abbot turned to Nines expectantly, his expression open. Nines nodded, accepting the request. It sounded like a simple enough job, suitable for a fledgling Hero like himself.

“Splendid! The cave is just at the foot of the road. You probably passed it on your way here. Our strongest monk will be waiting for you when you’re ready.

“Now then, I must gather the others and prepare for the Blessing. Please, excuse me.”

The Abbot bowed and started to walk back up towards the temple. Nines nodded his acknowledgement and continued in the other direction, eager to get on with his quest, when he heard the Abbot call out to him one last time.

“Ah, and sir?” Nines looked back to the Abbot. The man’s placid expression collapsed into anxiety, and all at once, all Nines could see before him was a worried parent.

“Please, keep my daughter safe.”

Nines nodded.

* * *

Nines followed the path down into the forest, searching for the cave that he and the Abbot’s daughter would be traversing. It wasn’t long before he started to hear a pleasant melody on the wind. Someone was singing.

_Down by the reeds, down by the reeds, swim the sirens of Oakvale, out to the seas…_

Nines followed the song through the forest, pulled in by the gentle tune. 

_Down by the reeds, down by the reeds, float the souls left unbroken by White Balverines…_

Nines approached the singer, having finally tracked the sound to its source. When his presence was registered, the singing stopped.

“I hope you didn’t have too much trouble finding me?”

The Abbot’s daughter jumped down from her perch atop a stone arcade lining the cave’s entrance. She patted her clothes, brushing the dust off, before addressing him again.

“So you’re my escort? My father said you’d be coming by.” She beamed at Nines. She was really very pretty. Nines couldn’t say he’d ever been interested in women, but even he couldn’t help but blush a little.

“I’m Sister Kara. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She extended a hand, and Nines shook it.

“Nines.”

Kara’s friendly smile never wavered.

“So the way this is supposed to go, is I carry this,” Kara hefted a huge ceremonial jug, almost as large as she was, onto her back. “Through the cave, where we fill it up with holy water for the acorn.”

Nines’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. Kara was evidently the strongest monk of the Temple of Light, whatever that meant—Nines had no idea how monks quantified strength—but surely that’s asking a bit much, isn’t? Nines himself would have a hard time carrying something that big as it is, let alone if it was full of water.

But Kara seemed quite confident, so he didn’t question her.

“Since I’ll be busy with this, and since monks in our order at the temple uphold a vow of non-violence, you’ll be in charge of all the fighting, if there’s any to be done at all.”

Nines scowled before he could stop himself. A vow of non-violence? That wouldn’t do at all. He needed a Hero, not a pacifist. If Kara’s words were true, than the temple must’ve been a dead end. None of the monks here could be the Hero of Strength.

Nines stalled, trying to figure out where he should go from here in his pursuit of the first Hero, until Kara called out to him from the entrance to the cave.

“Hey! You coming, or do I need to repeat that? I promise it shouldn’t be that bad, two scrawny old monks have done this exact same thing loads of times. It’ll be easier than you think.”

Nines, snapped out of thoughts, shook his head and followed after her. He could discuss what to do next with Amanda when he was done here. Right now, he had a mission to accomplish.

* * *

Kara had said “ _If_ there’s any fighting,” but Nines didn’t see how wave after wave of Hollow Men left any room for doubt.

Nines had no trouble slicing through them and crunching their dessicated husks beneath his feet, Kara safely out of harm’s way a few meters behind him, but he had no idea how dozens of pairs of monks had managed to perform this exact same ritual and end up relatively unscathed without professional help.

Perhaps these Temple of Light monks were hardier than they sounded.

Nines spared a glance back at Kara as he smashed the pommel of his sword through a Hollow Man’s skull.

He was starting to get quite curious about how well she could manage in a fight.

Despite the onslaught of Hollow Men, Kara and Nines made pretty good time through the cave. In between the bouts of fighting, Kara took to telling Nines more about herself.

She was really quite cheerful, and obviously smart. She proved to be very introspective as well, pondering what her life could have been like if she had been taken in by a member of the order of warrior monks in the north instead of her father, the Abbot. She laughed, telling him she couldn’t even imagine it. Her, waving a sword around!

Nines smiled. He really liked Kara. He supposed he’d be busy in the coming years with his Hero business and the campaign against Elijah, but he hoped they could keep in touch.

He’d really like to be friends.

There were three chambers in the Wellspring Cave that they needed to get water from, and a fourth where the water would be blessed. The contraptions that drew the holy water seemed a bit inexplicably complex, but they got the job done, and soon enough the jug was completely filled.

“Alright, that should do it!” Kara said with far more cheer than was warranted considering the surely immense weight of her burden. Nines had to hand it to her; she didn’t really look it, but she could probably lift him over her head one handed.

They continued on into the last chamber.

“Here we are, we made it—this is the final room!”

Kara ran to the dias in the center of the chamber, where a single bright beam of light shone into the cave.

“I’ll complete the blessing, and then we’ll be done.” She smiled warmly at Nines. “Thank you for keeping me safe down here.”

Nines looked away, that blush threatening to resurface, as Kara began the ritual. She closed her eyes and turned into herself, taking on a practiced stance as she knelt before the vessel and began her prayer.

The light encompassed her when she spoke.

“Lords of Light, bless this water, that with it we may give rise to new life once more. As new life rises, so shall we.”

The glow shone bright for several seconds before slowly receding into nothing, the ritual completed. For a moment, Kara seemed still lost in prayer, but she was lifting the jug again before Nines had the mind to call out to her.

“Well then, that’s that. Let’s head back, shall we?”

They turned towards the cave’s exit, but before they set off, they were startled to see someone burst into the chamber the way they were planning to leave.

It was a Temple of Light monk, and judging from the way he was gasping for breath and clutching at his knees, he had run all the way there from the temple.

“Sister Kara!” He managed to exclaim, before dissolving into another handful of heaving breaths.

“Brother Robin? What is it?” Kara set the jug down, growing tense. Nines gripped his sword tighter at her side.

“It’s your father.” Nines’s blood ran cold. “One of Lord Elijah’s men… he’s holding him hostage at the temple. He’s got a gun!”

Nines, some Hero he was, stood frozen, but Kara lept into action without a second thought. She raced over to one of the grand statues lining the chamber wall and—

Nines could hardly believe his eyes.

She ripped a giant warhammer out of the statue’s grasp and hefted it across her shoulders like it weighed no more than a feather.

“I have to save my father!” She yelled at his disbelieving expression.

“Come on, we have to get to the temple!” Kara turned and raced out of the cavern without a backward glance.

Nines didn’t need to be told twice. He left hot on her heels.

* * *

They didn’t make it in time.

Kara lunged for the intruder, her hammer poised to deliver a crushing deathblow, but not even her strength could slow the speed of a bullet. Her aim proved true, but so did her enemy’s.

For refusing to leave with Elijah’s henchman, her father was issued a death sentence.

Kara dropped her hammer to the ground, crumpling beside him, and her wails of grief echoed throughout Oakfield.

Nines didn’t know what he should do. So, instead, he did what he wanted to.

He knelt down beside Kara and placed a hand on her back as she sobbed.

She let him.

* * *

They buried Kara’s father on a grassy hill overlooking the ocean and planted the new Golden Oak atop his grave.

Kara had run out of tears days ago, and all that seemed to be left was a blank void of her grief.

It was so recently that Nines had been marvelling at the beauty of her smile.

Seeing her now, Nines mourned, for he feared he might never see it again.

* * *

Nines worried that Kara might not ever recover from such a loss, as the death of his brother had nearly broken him.

But in this way too, Kara had proved herself to be much stronger than he was. She channeled her grief into a determination to avenge her father, and her despair into a dedication to protecting the people of Albion, so that others wouldn’t have to suffer the same devastating loss that she did. That Nines did.

Amanda scolded him for thinking such a thing, claiming that grief affects people in different ways. She said that Nines’s near implosion at Connor’s death all those years ago didn’t make him weaker. Nines scoffed at her words and ignored her.

For several months, Kara trained with Nines and Amanda in the Guild, honing her combat ability. She and Nines often sparred several times a day, their bouts leaving the large cavern a dusty mess.

Kara figured out how to send Nines flying with a single swing of her hammer.

Nines had never had so much fun in his life.

The weeks passed, and on occasion Nines would venture out into the world, making sure that no horrible catastrophe was taking place before he could meddle with it.

He solved a small issue in Bowerstone Cemetery when he stopped back in town for a visit, and that helped him stretch his muscles. Nothing like hacking through Hollow Men to work all the knots out, that was for sure.

On the way back through town, something glinted in the corner of Nines’s vision, catching his eye. He stopped and followed the shine.

When he realized what he was looking at, he stopped for a moment to consider.

It was an axe. The Blacksmith had set it out for display, and the smooth luster of its flat blade had set Nines’s mind working.

He thought of Kara’s hammer and the devastating blows she could deliver. He considered how many times he had thought to himself how unsuited his build was for such a slight weapon as his sword.

Slighter blades demanded speed, but truthfully, Nines preferred power.

Nines flagged down the blacksmith and bought the axe.

* * *

Nines wondered what Kara might say seeing him with a new weapon upon his return, but she only grinned at him and demanded a fight.

Honestly, he was unsurprised. Nines grinned back and drew the axe.

Naturally, she kicked his ass, as he had never handled a heavy weapon before. Kara laughed at him, but helped him back up and walked him through the basics before they tried again.

The return of Kara’s smile was a relatively new development, and Nines was relieved to see it again. She still felt the loss of her father, clearly, but the ache was less piercing now with new friends and a new mission to distract her.

Over those months of training, suffering Amanda’s lectures, and occasionally sharing pieces of their pasts, the two of them grew close. Kara was Nines’s first friend.

He wouldn’t trade her for the world.

* * *

It was on the rare occasion they were both out patrolling the hills of Rookridge that they received word from Amanda.

She had located the Hero of Will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Kara slender and sleek while also able to smash you into next week? Is she a big buff cheeto puff with glorious muscles that will, still, smash you into next week? Both options are beautiful and valid!


	3. The Hero of Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines and Kara set out to find the Hero of Will, but all does not go according to plan.

Kara and Nines returned to the Guild at once. Upon their arrival, Amanda wasted no time in conveying to them their mission.

“I believe the second of our Heroes, the Mage, is in Brightwood. There is a powerful Will-user there called Markus.”

It was as if a bolt of lightning had shot itself down Nines’s spine. He remembered that name. How could he forget? He could remember just about everything from that night, from the mist covering Connor’s unseeing eyes as he bled out onto the glowing dias to the obnoxious shine of Jeeves the butler’s shoe buckles.

Amanda noticed his reaction. “Do you remember that name? He was there the night--”

“I remember,” Nines choked out. He didn’t need her to finish.

Amanda nodded in placid acknowledgement, but beside her, Kara looked only confused. Nines had shared many things with her; had even told her a little about his parents, but even after all this time, he still couldn’t bear to talk about his brother.

Much less the night of his murder.

“How are we supposed to trust him?” Kara asked.

Amanda addressed her with her explanation. “Markus believed Elijah’s interest in the Old Kingdom was purely academic, like his own. And Elijah, for his part, thought Markus was merely a brilliant scholar. When each learned the truth about the other, their partnership ended. Violently.”

Kara accepted Amanda’s words, but she looked no more willing to trust this Markus.

That was fine. They could judge the quality of his character for themselves once they found him. Nines certainly had his own reservations about anyone that would associate with Elijah.

* * *

Nines and Kara set out for Brightwood the next morning. It was an entire day’s walk, even for a pair of Heroes, but they made good time, and soon enough found themselves standing outside Brightwood Tower, where Amanda claimed Markus resided.

As they approached the gates, they heard Amanda’s voice, carrying a warning.

“Someone… or something… is coming your way. I have never felt anything like it. Be careful.”

She went silent again, and Kara and Nines exchanged uneasy glances. They drew their weapons and proceeded through the gates.

It was there that they realized the problem. Elijah’s Spire Guards and henchmen were dotted throughout the place. Their enemy had beaten them to Markus, and the Hero of Will was in danger.

They tore through Elijah’s men as quickly as they could, but they couldn’t move fast enough. Every second spent slicing through an enemy was another that they couldn’t establish Markus’s safety.

If he was killed in the chaos, all hope would be lost.

As they ascended the tower, they could hear Markus arguing with his assailant in the room high above. 

“I’m never going back there! You hear me?”

Nines and Kara finally reached the top of the wooden staircase, but found themselves separated from Markus and his assailant by a blazing fire burning through the room. Nines could make out Markus on the balcony, his conjured blades spinning around him, and the terrifying figure across from him that could only be one of Elijah’s horrible enforcers.

Nines had lost track of the words they were exchanging, he was so focused on the heat and the smoke and on trying to figure out how they could lose the Commandant and escape with Markus. He could hear Markus calling his attacker a freak, and then--

The abomination shot Markus with lightning, and Markus crumpled to the stone floor of the balcony, unconscious. Nines shouted in alarm, he could hear Kara do the same, but the Commandant paid them no heed.

“You are coming with me,” he said to Markus, and Nines and Kara could only watch in dismay as both of them vanished from sight.

The Hero of Will was lost.

* * *

They returned to Amanda with hanging heads and spirits low, but she wasted no time on their despondency.

“We cannot allow Elijah to keep Markus. We must rescue him from the Spire.”

Nines perked up at her concise instruction. They must not be doomed quite yet. “How are we supposed to get in there?”

Amanda answered. “There is someone who might know. When Elijah left for the Spire, he essentially abandoned his staff. His old butler, Jeeves, now spends his days at the Cow and Corset.”

Nines immediately pulled a face, unable to hold the expression in. _Jeeves_? Nines would’ve been quite content to never see the man again for the rest of his life. And now he’d have to find him loitering somewhere around Bowerstone’s most popular tavern.

Nines was not enthused.

He was about to send his most valiant attempt at puppy eyes Kara’s way and silently beg her to take this one, but Amanda stopped him in his tracks.

“I need you to go, Sparrow. Kara needs to stay here. We can’t risk two of the three Heroes falling into Elijah’s grasp.”

Nines knew Amanda was right. More of Elijah’s henchmen were scouring the land in search of the Heroes of Strength and Skill; Kara needed to lay low, especially if more like the Commandant would be coming after her.

Nines acquiesced, and set off for Bowerstone once more.

* * *

“If they can snatch someone as powerful as Markus away, none of us are safe!”

Nines couldn’t help but catch the indelicate whispers of drunken patrons as he pushed through the crowd to the stairs that would take him to the rooms on the second floor.

They were right, though it struck a pang through his heart that despite all his efforts he could do nothing to make them feel safer from the looming threat of Elijah.

He tried not to think about it.

Nines found Jeeves in the last room, muttering strange things to himself in the mirror. Something about being able to buy a wig without mice in it, Nines really didn’t want to know.

Jeeves turned, and Nines braced for impact.

“Ah! Well, well, well. Another offer? Dear me! So many inquisitive minds!”

Nines paused, considerably confused. Did Jeeves truly not recognize him? Derek and Barnum had. They had only met the once, but surely one doesn’t tend to forget the faces of the children your boss brutally murdered right before he vanished into the night?

Evidently, if one was Jeeves, one does, because Nines caught absolutely no hint of recognition on his face or in his voice.

Nines was too flabbergasted to feel any which way about it.

“So many who wish to know all of Elijah’s dirty little secrets.” Nines grimaced at his unflattering tone. Jeeves didn’t seem to notice.

“Well, everything you want to know is all written down, and I know where.”

Ooh, that made things easy for once. Wait, no, Nines took it back, he would not jinx it--

“And here’s something else that’s written down,” Jeeves interrupted. “My price. Don’t let anyone else see it!”

Jeeves handed Nines a crumpled note with a few rather suspicious stains and one slightly damp spot that Nines abjectly refused to touch. Carefully, Nines unfolded the note, glancing disdainfully at Jeeves as he did so.

Nines had to work to decipher what was written there, and he squinted at the abused paper irritatedly. The handwriting was a mess, and that’s not even accounting for the spelling. If Jeeves had written this while he was drunk, that would certainly explain all of the above and at least two of the stains.

Nines finally managed to work out that the note was attempting to convey the words “one thousand gold pieces and not a penny less!”

What the fuck was a penny?

He handed the note back to Jeeves.

“Elijah’s diary is quite the riveting read. I’m sure a private collector would pay handsomely to make a place for it in his home,” the man warned him.

Nines rolled his eyes and started digging around his pockets for the small sack where he kept his gold. He wasn’t a big spender-- the largest purchase he’d made in his life was his axe-- so he should have enough gold on hand.

Sure enough, he was able to fish out ten hundred-gold pieces and place them into Jeeves’s greedy hands. The man smiled gleefully when the last coin was deposited into his outstretched palm.

“Excellent! My thanks.” He quickly squirreled the glinting gold away in a deep set inner pocket of his coat.

Nines wondered if he’d have to _convince_ Jeeves to hold up his end of the bargain once he’d handed over the money, but for a pleasant surprise, the man was quite forthcoming. Once his gold was properly stowed, he turned back to Nines and spoke.

“I buried Elijah’s diary for safekeeping. This is the map to its location.” He thrust another crumpled and inelegantly smudged piece of paper into Nines’s hand.

Nines unraveled the note suspiciously, but there were no eerie wet spots to be found this time. On one side was indeed a map; it looked to be of Bower Lake. On the other side of the paper was a message, written much more coherently than its predecessor. It read:

“In Bower Lake, lying in the shadow of the hill named after Heroes, are the stumps of three trees. In that spot I have buried his diary.”

Jeeves was hardly a riddlesmith; Nines was pretty sure the hill was called Heroes’ Hill. At least Nines knew where he was going; he shouldn’t have to search. Nines folded the map back up, stored it, and headed out without another word, leaving Jeeves to his newfound riches.

* * *

Nines made his way back to Bower Lake and started heading in the direction of Heroes’ Hill. He worried that the stumps Jeeve spoke of might have been gone by then, either overgrown or dug up somehow, but it took him less than a minute to locate them from his vantage point. He descended the hill in their direction.

He was just approaching the stump closest to him when the ground shook mightily, almost knocking him off his feet. As he attempted to regain his balance, something huge burst from the ground with a powerful roar.

Quick as a flash, it gathered a great ball of earth in its massive hand and readied to hurl it in Nines’s direction. Nines jolted into action at the sight, barely avoiding the blow as the ground exploded where he was standing not a second before.

Nines took off running, mind racing. He had never come across one of those before. From the stories he’d heard, he could only guess that it was a Forest Troll.

He needed to think. Trolls were gigantic and powerful, but they were immobile, and had weak points he could exploit. He glanced at the monstrosity as it threw another boulder, unable to turn faster than Nines could run circles around it. It had many bulging polyps on its body. Those were probably what he was supposed to damage.

Nines briefly considered taking to them with his axe, but immediately discarded the idea. The Troll was too big, and with just one swing of those massive arms Nines would be dead meat.

He was hardly confident in his sharpshooting skills, but he’d have to pick this thing off from a distance.

Nines took cover behind the surrounding trees as he shot the Troll’s pulsating polyps one by one. He missed more than a few times, but what he lacked in accuracy with his pistol, he made up for with sheer endurance. Eventually, he was lining up the shot against the very last one.

Nines pulled the trigger, and his aim was true; the last polyp burst. The Troll roared in agony, and, defeated, receded once more into the ground.

Nines waited for a moment, gasping, tense as he held his position, uncertain whether the Troll would reemerge. The moment passed, and all remained still. The Troll was either dead or docile.

Nines warily approached the location indicated on Jeeves’s map. He worried that the diary might’ve been displaced somehow, if it had been buried atop where a Forest Troll had been residing, but fortunately he had no trouble digging it up. Jeeves had buried it in a sealed wooden box, and when Nines opened it, he found the diary to be in rather good condition.

With this, they had their lead.

Nines left the battleground behind and started the trek back to the Guild.

* * *

Amanda was quite pleased with his swift recovery of Elijah’s diary. He handed the book over to her as soon as he returned.

She took it from him graciously and got to work.

Nines and Kara gazed in wonder at her as she paged through the diary. Though Amanda was long since blinded, her gifts allowed her to see far more than most people could. It seemed like the nonsense runic writing in Elijah’s notes was no different.

“Westcliff,” she uttered suddenly, snapping Kara and Nines out of their shared daze. “Elijah is recruiting guards from Westcliff.”

Beside Nines, Kara’s brow furrowed. “Westcliff? Why there? It’s… well…” Kara trailed off, clearly unable to think of a tactful way to describe the place.

“I mean, the only thing there is that arena,” she managed.

Nines had never heard of Westcliff or its arena, but he supposed he still wasn’t very familiar with the areas farther from Bowerstone.

“The Crucible,” Amanda told Kara. “Those who win it are physically tough, and mentally weak. Elijah is recruiting the winners as guards.”

That made sense to Nines. It would certainly explain where Elijah’s constantly replenishing supply of brainless thugs was coming from.

Amanda turned to address both of them. “You must enter the Crucible in Westcliff, and emerge from it victorious. It’s the only way to get into the Spire-- the only way to get to Markus, and rescue him.”

They had no other choice. Nines and Kara agreed, and Amanda sent them off to Westcliff as soon as they had made their preparations for the journey.

* * *

The path to Westcliff took them through Brightwood, where Nines had never traveled before, and he couldn’t help but gaze in awe at the natural beauty surrounding him as he walked, no doubt with a rather unattractive look of dumbstruck wonderment on his face. Kara couldn’t help but laugh at him.

The forest of Brightwood was strikingly beautiful, and quite peaceful as well. They still had to fend off the odd bandit ambush, but there were far fewer than would be lurking aside the roads of Bower Lake, and they couldn’t hold a candle to the criminal population in Rookridge.

Nines could’ve lived here, if it were anywhere at all close to civilization.

It took them a day to pass through Brightwood. They camped out in the forest and renewed their journey at dawn. Once the trees started thinning, Nines and Kara both drew their weapons.

They were approaching the Bandit Coast.

The truth that Kara had stumbled over back in the Guild, Nines later came to learn, was that Westcliff and the surrounding region was populated with nothing but absolute degenerates.

The only land route into Westcliff was a seaside road that hugged sheer cliffs on one side and a vicious drop to the ocean on the other. And this entire route, from where it fed into Brightwood all the way up to Westcliff itself, was completely overrun by bandits.

Hence, the Bandit Coast.

Nines had thought they might need to prepare for the possibility of being overtaken by their sheer numbers, but he and Kara kept up a pleasantly healthy pace as the hacked and smashed their way through all the stood before them. Conveniently, the bandit encampments were somewhat spaced out, so all the fighting amounted to some good exercise without putting them in any serious danger. Being a Hero had its perks.

They pressed on towards Westcliff and the Crucible, leaving the shoreline behind and a trail of utter devastation in their wake.

As night fell and the forest around them grew darker and more sinister, Kara turned to Nines with a warning.

“I’ve heard a lot of stories about Westcliff. The region is said to be infested with Balverines. Be careful.”

Nines had heard of Balverines, but to be honest, he had assumed they were just a myth. Something to scare children with so they wouldn’t wander off at night. But if Kara said she knew of them, Nines would take her word for it.

Not fifteen minutes later he no longer had to.

Balverines attacked from within the trees. They were large beasts, viciously-fanged at sharp-clawed. They were a greater challenge than the bandits, but Nines and Kara tore through them just as well.

The Heroes agreed to keep travelling through the night. There was no way they would live through a proper rest with creatures like this lurking in the shadows.

About halfway through the forest, they heard a shrill scream from further up the road. Weapons at the ready, they raced toward it.

They crested the hill and found a woman sobbing wretchedly over a mutilated corpse. Her anguished wails put the howling of the Balverines to shame.

The sound stabbed at Nines’s heart.

It made him uncomfortable.

Kara approached the woman, quick to offer a consoling hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?” The woman kept sobbing. “What happened here?”

The woman managed to pull herself together enough to respond, haltingly. “Balverines attacked us!” She sniffled and tried to catch her breath. “They killed my husband!” She broke down in tears once more, incomprehensible.

Kara moved her hand soothingly up and down the woman’s back as Nines shifted uneasily. “You’re safe with us,” she told her.

Kara tried to shush her, but the woman had something else she wanted to get out. “My… my son!” She finally mustered. “They took my son!”

Kara pulled back immediately, and Nines was at her side in an instant. “Can you show us where they took him?”

The woman nodded shakily. “I… I think so. It was this way.” She stood and led them further down the path to Westcliff.

Nines looked back at the brutalized body of the woman’s husband, left out on the road. A dark uncertainty thickened in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

The woman’s name was Lilith. Kara got it out of her while making smalltalk, likely in an effort to distract her from contemplating what had happened to her husband, or what might be happening to her son. Kara was always good with people like that.

Nines was, perhaps just a tiny bit, jealous.

They fought off more Balverines as Lilith led them through the forest. Nines worried that one of them might go for her, identifying her as the easiest target, but the creatures seemed perfectly content with throwing themselves at him and Kara alone.

Nines wondered if that was normal.

His shadowy feeling of dread was only getting worse.

He ignored it.

“This is where they took him.”

Nines looked up. Lilith had led them to the entrance of what was surely once a magnificent temple, but now remained only as ruins. Several Balverines stared at them hungrily from their perch on the ruined stone walls.

Nines and Kara dispatched them before Lilith led the Heroes inside.

The temple was quite beautiful, even in its ruined state. The trouble was, it also appeared to be quite large. Nines hadn’t the first idea how to go about finding a child in a place like this.

He was just contemplating how they should proceed when Lilith led him and Kara into a vast, open chamber. He tensed, realizing too late that they were surrounded by Balverines.

He was about to warn Lilith to stay close when she spoke.

“Children…” Her voice was distorted and horrifying. “I bring you flesh!”

She vanished, but her maniacal laughter, hardly recognizable as such, echoed through the chamber.

Nines’s bad feeling cleared up instantly.

Nines hacked and Kara smashed their way through wave after wave of Balverines. Lilith soon reemerged in her true form; a great White Balverine, she was much harder to fend off than any of her “children.” Nines knew they wouldn’t be able to fight their way out, and Kara seemed to realize it too.

They took off through the temple, only stopping to fell whatever tried to put itself in their way. They could hear the shrieking of Lilith the Balverine somewhere behind them, but she wasn’t able to pursue them far.

They escaped the temple and emerged in daylight. Now that the sun was out, they would be safe from the threat of Balverines.

They put the ruins some distance behind them before they succumbed and collapsed into sleep, exhausted.

Nines woke up in the afternoon, and after checking to confirm that nothing had spirited away with their valuables while they were out, shook Kara awake so they could continue their journey. They should almost be at Westcliff by now.

Sure enough, within the hour they could start to make out the massive facade of the Crucible looming in the distance.

* * *

Westcliff was every bit as terrible as the rumors made it out to be, and then some.

Nines maintained this without having any idea what the rumors were.

He and Kara were absolutely surrounded by thugs, and considering the Crucible seemed to be the only reason anyone even lived here, they were all the worst kind of thugs; violent, crude, and all around generally unpleasant.

Nines would be glad to move on to the Spire.

Just as the two Heroes were about to approach the Crucible, intent on signing themselves up, Amanda’s voice floated up from the Guild Seal.

“Hold on a moment,” she commanded them. “I have thought long and hard about this, and have come to a decision. Sparrow, you must challenge the Crucible alone.”

They both stopped short.

“Why?” Nines and Kara asked at the same time, matching looks of incredulity on their faces.

“We simply cannot risk any more Heroes falling into Elijah’s hands. Sparrow will infiltrate the Spire and free Markus. You, Kara, must stay and protect Albion in his absence.”

Nines frowned. Amanda was right, but he didn’t want her to be. It would be hard to leave without Kara.

It would be hard, but he would do it. He will avenge his brother.

No matter what sacrifices he must make.

Kara looked to Nines. Only once he nodded his acceptance did she agree.

She was truly his greatest friend.

* * *

Nines signed himself up as a Crucible contender, but the matches wouldn’t start up again until tomorrow, so he and Kara decided to explore a bit while they had the time.

Kara went to check out the shooting range, curious about what sorts of prizes they were rumored to have there, and Nines wandered off in another direction, only to come across a familiar face he’d never have expected to see in Westcliff.

“Why, if it isn’t the young Sparrow!”

It was Barnum, off on yet another business venture, it sounded like. Nines offered to buy him a drink at the shanty Westcliff passed off as a tavern, and Barnum heartily accepted, eager to regale Nines of his many exploits in the months since they’d last come across each other in Oakfield.

It took him a good hour to get to what he was doing on this side of Albion. Apparently, this time Barnum was on a mission to transform Westcliff from… what it was, into a tourist destination.

Nines couldn’t keep the disbelief from showing on his face, but thankfully Barnum was so excited about his plans, he didn’t seem to notice. He had it all planned out, he told Nines. All he needed was an investor to help get his plans off the ground.

Nines’s brows rose in interest. Barnum was asking him for five thousand gold. That was a lot of money. And to be honest, he didn’t trust the sound of this “Temple of Business and Yodelling” one bit, but he supposed he could set that aside for the moment.

Nines took some time to consider it, and Barnum waited patiently for his response.

The problem with Barnum was never that he was stupid or had no head for business; he never would’ve been able to bounce back from bankrupcy so many times if that had been the case. He simply trusted the wrong people. Gave them all his money.

But this wasn’t Barnum investing his life’s savings in some stranger, this was Nines investing his money in Barnum.

Nines thumbed the worn picture in his pocket, safely tucked away and wrapped in a protective cloth.

Shit. It’s not like Nines would have any use for his gold while he’s stuck in the Spire.

He agreed to give Barnum the gold. Barnum swore to him he’d repay every last piece of it.

* * *

Nines entered the Crucible the next day.

His fellow challengers seemed strangely reluctant to take their turns, so Nines volunteered himself early.

He’d heard that anyone who could beat the target time for each round would win Mad-dog “The Strangler”’s legendary axe. Nines was quite eager to get his hands on it.

It was soon time for Nines to face the first round. He was hustled into the ring. He drew his weapon. The commentator counted down.

“Three… Two… One… First wave!”

And Nines was off. The first three rounds were so simple, he didn’t even break a sweat. Mowing down beetles and Hobbes was nothing compared to the great enemies he’d had to face.

Round four pitted him against swarms of Hollow Men, and in a rare turn of events he opted to break out his Inferno spell rather than cut them all down one by one.

For five and six, he faced human opponents, but they fared no better against a Hero.

They had somehow managed to capture Balverines for round seven, but Nines now had experience fighting those savage creatures, so he was able to finish them off as well without much trouble.

Round eight, the final round, began with a horribly familiar feeling of the ground shaking beneath his feet, and Nines groaned in dismay, though he didn’t have time to linger on the feeling as a Rock Troll sprang to life before him.

Nines took off running, pistol at the ready.

Despite the regular interruptions by chaos-mongering Hobbes, Nines was able to defeat this Troll in a similar manner as he did the first. The audience in the stands went wild as it sunk back into the ground.

Nines listened attentively as his results were related to the crowd. A fowl frown settled on his face when he heard.

He had beaten the Crucible and set a new record, but he hadn’t been fast enough with the Troll to earn his legendary axe.

Damn.

Mournful though he was to have to leave the weapon behind, he had succeeded in his task, and was now one step closer to freeing Markus from the Spire and Elijah’s merciless grasp.

He met up with Kara outside the Crucible entrance.

Now that he had proven his strength, he had been given permission to board the boat that docked in Westcliff and once a week brought people and supplies over to the Spire.

The boat wasn’t due for another five days.

Nines was grateful for the extra time before he had to say goodbye.

The night before he was to leave, Amanda spoke to him through the Guild Seal.

“I don’t know how long this mission will take,” she warned him. “I’m sorry.”

Nines knew what she was implying, but he didn’t say anything. He had no regrets.

He didn’t care how long it took. Weeks, months, years. It didn’t matter.

Nines would avenge Connor.

* * *

Morning came, and with it the boat that would take Nines away. He arrived at the docks with Kara by his side. A man waited at the end of the dock to escort him onto the ship.

“No personal effects allowed on board, and no weapons,” he told Nines.

It was hardly a surprise, but Nines’s heart still sunk a little in his chest. Even so, he knew it was for the best. His things would be safer with Kara than anywhere near the Spire.

He removed his weapons and his outermost clothes, including the coat with the picture tucked securely in one of its pockets. It pained him greatly to part with it, to know that he would no longer be able to pull it out and gaze at the silly smiling faces of him and his brother, back during a time when neither of them could imagine a life without the other. That he wouldn’t have the reassurance that he wouldn’t forget Connor’s face.

But he thought of Elijah existing in the very same structure as that piece of paper, and knew it had to stay with Kara.

She accepted his possessions in silence. Once he’d handed over everything, she pulled him in for one last hug, and it felt like she was squeezing him for all he was worth. Like if she only hugged hard enough, he wouldn’t have to go.

Nines patted her on the back and let her hold him, but after a few moments, he knew he had to pull away. When he did, he could see Kara’s eyes were wet with unshed tears.

She made a valiant attempt at a smile for him. “Stay safe, yeah?”

Nines nodded.

He boarded the boat, and set sail for the Spire.

* * *

\--Week One--

The ship unloaded Nines’s group of new recruits within the Spire. They were herded off the boat and urged further into the structure, where someone stood waiting for them.

It was Lord Elijah. Nines saw red.

He fought with every fiber of his being to remain still and innocuous as Elijah started to deliver them a rambling speech. He couldn’t bring himself to really listen, so focused was he on not walking up to the monster that killed his brother and pummeling him to death with his bare hands.

No. He couldn’t. He needed to save Markus. He needed the Hero of Will to stop Elijah once and for all. Nines would not see his vengeance served today.

And that knowledge _burned_ , but Nines withstood it. Elijah would _pay_.

But not today.

Elijah ended his monologue with one firmly issued command, and Nines let himself be dragged into sleep.

* * *

When Nines woke up, he found that his head had been shaved, his clothes replaced, and a gigantic, uncomfortably clunky collar had been placed around his neck.

To say that he was displeased would be an understatement.

One of his… superior officers, he supposed, was kind enough to describe what was to be his new normal.

If issued an order, Nines was to obey it immediately. If he did not, his new collar would zap him, probably to death. Nines had a quick thought about whether or not it would be as effective on a Hero, and immediately decided he didn’t need to test that theory on his first day.

Nines’s first order was to report to the Commandant. Nines had to work to reign in his surprise. He would be taking orders from the very same Commandant that had kidnapped Markus.

He couldn’t tell whether this was fortuitous, or exactly the opposite.

Only one way to find out.

The guard barking at him finally dismissed him, and Nines headed for the Commandant’s chamber.

The way there took him past one of the many rows of cells where Elijah held prisoners--usually disobedient laborers or guards he would let waste away--and Nines nearly groaned out loud when he saw who was on duty for this block.

It was _Bob_.

The whole boat ride over, this man would not shut up about his wife, how amazing she was, how much he loved her, how she was so excited that he would be going to work on the Spire.

Nines possessed patience in spades, but even _he_ had his limits.

Naturally, the man immediately recognized him despite Elijah’s efforts to make all the guards in his employ look alike, and put forth his best effort into talking Nines’s ear off. Nines did his best to ignore Bob and walk as quickly as possible without blatantly fleeing his presence.

He was passing the last cell in the block, Bob hot on his heels, when a look at the prisoner held inside made him stop short.

It was Markus.

“I don’t know how you got here,” Markus’s voice spoke directly into his mind, “but I know what you are.”

Nines froze. Bob chattered away beside him, oblivious.

“And it doesn’t matter. Your power will do you no good as long as you wear that collar.”

Nines grimaced and cast a glance down at the hunk of metal draped around his neck.

“Be patient.”

Nines’s expression hardened.

He could wait.

As long as it took.

* * *

It took far longer for Bob to stop talking to Nines than it did for Markus, but eventually Nines managed to pull himself away.

He walked through the dark, winding halls of the Spire, towards the Commandant’s chamber. The great corridors seemed endless, and the ceiling loomed high above. An eerie pulse resonated from the dark stone walls, unsettling him to his core. Nines couldn’t get used to it.

Eventually, he came upon his destination. It took ten minutes of walking at a standard pace to get there from the Barracks, even accounting for Bob’s incessant chatter slowing his progress. He’d have to remember that.

The door to the Commandant opened, and Nines stepped inside.

The abomination looked out onto the inner Spire through a great window on the far wall, standing atop a raised platform. He turned when Nines approached the bottom of the steps.

Nines looked into the eyes of Elijah’s unfeeling dog, the one who had snatched the Hero of Will, one of the instruments of Connor’s vengeance, so cruelly away that day in Brightwood Tower.

He clenched his fists. He grit his teeth. He said nothing.

The Commandant spoke instead.

“You are Recruit 273. That number is not random. It was assigned to you because I have broken 272 recruits before you. You are nothing more than the next link in the chain.”

Nines almost calmed. So they truly didn’t know who he was. He was being offered the same cookie-cutter intimidation speech as… Well, Recruits 1 through 272, apparently.

Nines mourned their suffering, but they were not Heroes. He would not break like the rest.

The Commandant continued. “You have been brought here to oversee the reconstruction of the Tattered Spire, and to serve Elijah as he sees fit.”

At those words, Nines bit his tongue so hard he could taste the blood. He knew his eyes must’ve reflected nothing but cold fury, but the Commandant didn’t seem to care.

So he would not be punished, as long as he didn’t step out of line. Nines filed the information away for later.

“My job is to ensure the obedience of guards like you.”

Nines could hear the sick curl of pleasure in the Commandant’s twisted voice. His nails twisted harder into his gloved palms at the sound.

“You will do everything I tell you. Without question. Failure to obey will cause the device around your neck to activate.”

Nines looked back down at the ugly hunk of junk stuck atop his shoulders.

“This is not a pleasant experience. You will lose your willpower. Your memories and experiences will be drained away.”

Nines looked back up with a jolt, his eyes wide with panic. His memories? The torture would cost him his memories?

Would it make him forget Kara?

Amanda?

His brother?

“This will continue until you submit. Perhaps you believe you will resist. Some do at first… a misguided sense of personal honor.”

Resist? Could he resist? Would they spare his memories if he didn’t?

He had the blood of a Hero, but would that make a difference?

“You must decide: is your honor really that important to you?” The Commandant stepped back and made space for Nines on the platform. “Now: come here. Obey me.”

It was now or never. Would he obey or disobey? What was the right choice?

Nines couldn’t care less about his honor, but his memories were precious. They were all he had left of Connor. Stranded here in the Spire, they were all he had left of anybody he had ever loved.

But. Nines took a deep breath and thought. He was a Hero. He could obey now, but eventually he’d have to draw the line. The Commandant will inevitably command him to commit terrible acts, and he will have to refuse.

No matter what he did, the Spire would take from him. He would be punished. At least if he started now, he would know what to expect. He could learn to resist.

Nines made his decision. He looked up to the Commandant. He set his gaze. He did not move.

The collar activated, and pain rocketed through Nines’s body.

But pain, he could take.

He would resist.

And he would _not_ forget his brother.

* * *

\--Week Thirty-Eight--

Nines had made a bit of a reputation for himself amongst his fellow guards.

He was famous throughout the Barracks for being one of the most capable workers in the Spire, and he was infamous for his abject refusal to obey any order issued to him by the Commandant.

Every single one.

But Nines paid his colleagues no heed as he suited up for the day. His shift would start soon. Bob had just gotten off his own, and was talking idly to him.

“I hear you’ve been resisting the Commandant,” Bob proposed, and Nines rolled his eyes as he shoved a boot on. The damn things were horrendously clunky, who in Avo’s bountiful name thought that Spire Guards could work efficiently with leather boxes strapped to their feet.

“I wish I had your strength,” Bob sighed. “The Commandant made me torture a recruit this morning. He overheard the poor bastard saying he missed his family.”

Nines cast a sympathetic glance Bob’s way. The man was a shipbuilder by trade and a gentle soul by nature; he wasn’t cut out for brute work. He had been initially taken on to work as a laborer, but was transferred to the guard when they couldn’t make up the numbers. It wasn’t hard to see why. Since Nines had gotten here, they’d already started numbering recruits in the 300s.

“I’m glad I don’t have a family,” Bob breathed with a sigh of relief.

Nines froze where he sat.

A mist seemed to come over Bob’s eyes for a second, and his expression muddled. He brought a hand to his head. “Huh. I just had a strange…”

A pang of grief shot through Nines’s heart.

“Maybe it’s the collar.” Bob shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Hard to think sometimes with these sounds.”

A low groan echoed through the floor as if in response.

“But, you know, I hardly notice it anymore. It’s as familiar with my own heartbeat.”

Nines paled. _“Do not fear the sound you hear, the throbbing you feel beneath your feet. These sensations will soon be as familiar as your own heartbeat.”_

That was something Elijah had told them, all those months ago, when they first entered the Spire. Part of his little welcome speech.

Dread started to pool in the pit of Nines’s stomach. He hadn’t noticed it starting. He hadn’t even noticed, and now Bob…

Bob didn’t remember he had a wife that loved him anymore.

How long did Nines have left until the same thing happened to him?

They were interrupted by another guard sent to deliver Nines’s orders.

“Recruit 273, report to the detention center.”

Nines nodded his acknowledgement and stood. He bid Bob goodbye and made his way to his post, the nauseating pulse of the Spire remaining an ever-present discomfort at the back of his mind. He clutched at that feeling and the reassurance it brought him.

As he passed through the Spire’s arching halls, Markus’s voice appeared in his mind once again.

The man tended to make contact about once a week, keeping Nines informed, guiding him on the right path to their eventual escape. Nines didn’t know how long Markus would need to amass enough power to break his chains, but he could wait. Patience was his foremost virtue.

He only hoped it wouldn’t be too late for him.

Regardless, to hear the mage’s voice was a relief, even with the grave news it conveyed.

“This place is powerful-- but it is only a shadow of what it will become.”

Well, Nines thought, someone’s taking an ominous page from Amanda’s book.

“Can you hear it?” If he meant that clacking, the answer was yes, and Nines kind of wished he couldn’t.

Markus didn’t mean the clacking. “The sound of our Will being sapped.”

Nines frowned as he walked. That wasn’t good. Depending on how efficient the drain was, that could set Markus’s Will recovery back immensely, seriously delaying their plans.

Markus continued to be the bearer of bad news. “I don’t know when we’ll be able to speak again. The Commandant has threatened to move me somewhere deeper within the Spire.”

His voice then went abruptly silent, but Nines knew not to be alarmed. Markus was never one to waste his words on trifling goodbyes. When he no longer had anything important to say, he stopped speaking.

Nines was all for it. The more energy he could spare on stockpiling his Will, the sooner they got out of this Skorm’s den.

* * *

A minute later, Nines made it to the “detention center;” one of the Spire’s many prisoner cell blocks.

The guard on duty greeted Nines amicably, and gave him his orders.

“Stand here and guard these maggots until I get back.” He pointed a thumb back at the prisoners wasting away in their cells. “I’m gonna grab a quick bite.”

Nines wrinkled his nose. ‘Maggot’ was truly such an uninspired insult. Surely, anyone who stoops to such stereotypical name-calling must be overcompensating for something.

The guard turned to the starving prisoners. “Mmmmm, tasty food. Yum, yum,” He jeered.

Nines frowned, and a vein pulsed in his forehead, but he said nothing.

“They’re not allowed any food, so don’t touch the controls-- or you’ll be sorry!” The brute called over his shoulder as he headed for the canteen.

Nines immediately read between the lines. Clearly, the Commandant had set this up. This was another test.

The abomination must’ve grown frustrated with Nines’s persistent disobedience, he thought with a smirk, and devised this situation to see if Nines’s insubordination would continue in different circumstances.

Well, Nines would _hate_ to disappoint.

As soon as the other guard was out of earshot, Nines moved to the first cell, pulled the lever that dispensed prisoner rations, and braced for the agony.

It was excruciating, but it was only pain, and so he could bear it.

When the collar around his neck calmed, he walked over to the next cell, resolutely ignoring the insidious whisperings in the back of his skull, Elijah’s voice telling him to _obey_.

He would not. He would _resist_.

He pulled the second lever, and his collar struck him down with the force of a lightning bolt. 

When it stopped, he was left drained and panting, but he was not yet felled. Nines staggered to his feet and moved over to the lever for the third cell.

He mustered the last of his strength, and pulled. This time, the pain of the shock dragged him into unconsciousness.

* * *

\--Week One Hundred Thirty-Seven--

The day Nines realized he had momentarily forgotten the uneasy vibration of the Spire’s wicked thrum beneath his feet was the day he started reciting the names of his loved ones.

Kara.

Amanda.

Connor.

It had been over two years since he first set foot in the Spire. Though he was faring far better than any of his contemporaries, he could feel the monolith’s dark energy wearing him down, starting to erode him at the edges.

He knew it would take him too, eventually.

But he would forget many of his most cherished memories, if it meant he could take down Elijah.

He would forget Amanda, and the bond he forged with her as she healed him, guided him, and raised him as her own.

He would forget Kara, and her awesome strength, and her beautiful smile, because he knew her steadfast loyalty would keep her by his side no matter how he returned to her.

He would forget Bowerstone, and the orphanage, and even the farm and his parents, who by now he only had vague recollections of.

But he would _not_ forget Connor.

They could not make him forget his brother.

* * *

Nines was on his way to the Commandant’s chamber again. He’d been given orders to report. He’d passed through these halls so many times, his steps had become mechanical. Thoughtless. Nines tried to focus his thoughts on more important things.

Kara. Amanda. Connor. _Connor_. He must not forget Connor. He didn’t feel like he had forgotten anything, but he couldn’t trust his own knowledge. He couldn’t trust that he hadn’t already forgotten someone even more important.

He passed by Markus’s cell again. “Stay strong,” his voice whispered into Nines’s mind. “Don’t let them break your will.”

Nines kept walking. They could not break him. The collar was the worst they could do to him, and Nines had long since grown accustomed to that agony.

If he lost his memories, he would not break. If he forgot Amanda, he would not break. If he forgot Kara, he would not break.

They would have to break _him_ to make him forget Connor.

Nines arrived at the Commandant’s chamber.

The abomination appeared to be seething with barely controlled rage. Someone was collapsed on the floor to Nines’s left, the Commandant’s latest victim.

“I _will_ make you obey,” it said, before descending the platform in front of the window and moving towards the body. “I believe you know this man.”

Nines followed its gaze to the man on the floor, and his heart froze at the sight.

It was Bob.

He wasn’t dead, Nines realized, and that made the tightness in his chest loosen just a bit, but whatever the Commandant had done to him had sent him far away. He was staring wide-eyed at nothing, murmuring nonsense into the floor.

Nines’s heart _ached_.

“Take this sword,” the Commandant ordered, offering him his blade. Nines took it without a second thought.

It was getting harder to resist its commands.

“This half-wit is beyond repair,” it told Nines. “But you, I will salvage.”

The Commandant pointed at Bob, lying helpless on the floor. “Kill him.”

Well.

Some commands.

Nines raised the cutlass he had been given, and sliced at the Commandant.

He was fast, but the abomination was ever so slightly faster. Nines cut no deeper than the leather outer layer of the Commandant’s coat as it swept out of range of his attack.

Immediately, Nines was struck down as his collar activated once more, violent shocks ripping through him. He fell to his knees, screaming in pain.

The Commandant roared in frustration at his continued disobedience, and cast him aside.

Before the last of Nines’s strength was sapped away and he was dragged once more into unconsciousness, he saw the abomination loose lightning at Bob’s prone form, executing him.

* * *

_“An unloved task slows the passage of time. An eternity passed within the Spire. Each day the great black walls grew. Each dawn grew darker in their shadow, and the deeds within the walls grew darker still._

_As years passed, the Hero’s task seemed ever more impossible. Elijah remained behind the great white light, Markus remained hidden, and others like the Commandant appeared, all as brutal and powerful as the first._

_And slowly, all thought of freedom or the outside world faded…”_

* * *

\--Many years later…--

Nines sat on his bedroll in the Barracks, staring listlessly into the distance.

It had been so long. So much time had passed in the Spire. Every second of free time he had was now devoted to retaining his memories.

Connor.

Connor.

 _Connor_.

Nines had the vague recollection that there was someone else too, maybe someone more, but that didn’t seem to matter. If he couldn’t remember them, they must not be terribly important.

 _Connor_.

He would not forget his brother.

Nines closed his eyes and tried to focus.

His brother… What did he look like? It had been so long… Nines couldn’t quite form the picture in his head.

But that was alright, he reminded himself before he could start to panic. He had, something, that helped him remember… Something that showed him what Connor looked like…

He had left it with… With…

It didn’t matter what he did with it. It was safe.

Another guard walked up to him.

“Officer 273, report to the Commandant.”

Nines got up in a single fluid motion. His body could function almost independently of his mind in the Spire.

It had been _so long_.

Nines passed a row of prison cells. Something prickled at his mind, a vague feeling of emptiness, but he didn’t stop. When he rounded the next corner, the feeling went away.

Nines tried to focus on the noises the Spire made as he walked. The sick pulsing emanating from the walls.

He had to focus hard to pick out either.

He arrived at his post, and stood before the Commandant.

“Construction of the upper tier begins tomorrow,” it told him. “The man guarding the site is overdue reporting in. Find out what’s happened. You can consider this a chance to redeem yourself.

“If you find the man in dereliction of duty, escort him to the torture chamber and await further orders.”

The Commandant turned its back to Nines, dismissing him.

Nines left for the construction site.

The halls grew thinner as he approached the upper tier, and eventually the inner walls fell away entirely. Nines travelled the narrow walkways with care, keeping an eye open for the missing guard.

He didn’t have to look for long. Nines found the man’s body in a shadowy corner not far from the man’s post, hidden at the foot of a nearby stairwell. He ducked down to inspect the corpse.

Suddenly, a violent shock went coursing through him, and Nines tried to turn as best he could to gain sight of his attacker.

He saw who it was, and all at once long-forgotten memories clicked into place.

It was Markus.

“We meet again, Hero,” the mage said, still sending bolts of lightning through Nines’s body.

“You came to rescue me, but you’re no good to either of us with that collar on.”

Nines was struck with sudden understanding, but it did little to dull the pain slicing through him. He couldn’t help but wish Markus could speed this part up a fraction.

A few seconds more, and the collar disintegrated, completely fried by Markus’s magic. Nines heaved a sigh of relief. A years-old burden, finally lifted.

He nodded at Markus in thanks.

Markus inclined his own head in acknowledgement. “It took me years to focus enough Will to destroy our collars--and that guard.” He gestured to the body at Nines’s feet. “I’ve got nothing left. So when trouble comes, it’s up to you.”

Nines understood. He took the fallen guard’s cutlass, arming himself for their impending escape, before moving to stand beside Markus.

“The only way out of the Spire is through the Commandant’s chamber.”

If Nines could’ve spared the energy, he would have groaned aloud. Of course. Of course that was the only way out of this thrice-cursed spawnpit.

At least he knew the way.

“Ready yourself, and let’s move.”

And so they finally began their escape.

* * *

They were beset by guards almost as soon as they left the construction site, but Nines had no trouble dispatching them.

Nines was worried his years of idle gruntwork would’ve blunted his skills and dulled the force of his blows, but free from the collar, he found he retained most if not all of his Hero strength. Even without Markus’s help and wielding an unfamiliar weapon, he cleaved through all enemies with seldom more than a sweep of his blade.

They passed by the cells again on their way back, and Nines paused to consider the prisoners, distraught.

Markus laid a kind but deterring hand on his shoulder. “There is nothing we can do for these men.”

Nines knew he was right. The cells were magically sealed. There was no button to press or lever to pull that would release them from their fate.

It still hurt to leave them behind.

They soon came upon the Commandant’s chamber.

“We’re not leaving until the Commandant is dead.”

Nines raised an eyebrow at his accomplice. He understood the sentiment better than likely anyone else on the planet (oh how he ached to make the Commandant _bleed_ ) but that sounded like a dangerous amount of effort to waste in their escape.

“I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not revenge I’m after. Revenge is just a fortunate byproduct.”

Nines was certainly in no position to judge even if it were. The Sparrow was many things, but he was not a hypocrite.

Markus climbed the platform to the window looking out over the inner Spire. “A new load of recruits is being brought in. Take a look.”

Markus motioned his head at the window, and Nines moved up to see for himself.

“Now we just need to find--” Markus cut off with a shout of agony as lighting struck him from behind. Nines whirled to face their attacker.

Speak of the Shadows, indeed.

“You… I should have known you would betray me,” the Commandant spoke. Yeah, Nines thought. You really should’ve. Nines couldn’t really fathom how it didn’t see this coming.

He’d never been anything but ornery during his time here.

“Lord Elijah will kill me for failing to keep order.” Ooh, what a pleasant parting gift, Nines thought. How uncharacteristic.

“But I am obedient.” In Nines’s very educated opinion, that was nothing to be proud of. “And so before he does, I will eliminate you.” The Commandant raised its weapon.

Nines charged. Behind him, a ring of obelisks rose across the room before activating a magical barrier, preventing escape and locking him into a duel with the abomination before him.

Blades clashed. The Commandant tried to summon henchmen into the ring with them, but they could hardly appear before they were felled by Nines’s cutlass. It loosed devastating magic attacks Nines’s way, but he found that he never tired from dodging them. He had been waiting a long time for this.

He was so _close_. Nothing could stop him now.

With one final blow, Nines cut the Commandant down. Blood spilled from the gash through its armor, and it crumpled to the ground, dead or defeated.

It didn’t matter. If Nines hadn’t finished the job, Elijah would.

Suddenly, the Commandant’s body started to glow, and Nines jumped back, startled and apprehensive. He watched the glow of magic as it rose off of his enemy and floated, across the room, over to…

Markus took in the shining energy, crying out at the massive strain on his body, and cast the chamber in a piercing white light. Nines couldn’t entirely shield his eyes from the glow.

When the room was dim again, Nines chanced a glance Markus’s way. His hopes were not disappointed.

Markus’s skin crackled with energy, and the sight of so much _blue_ coursing through him struck Nines with the memory of when he saw the same thing long ago.

Markus’s veins really were glowing, all those years ago, and now he knew why.

Nines shook his head of thoughts of the past.

He needed to focus on the present if they were to escape.

Nines moved over to Markus and offered him a hand.

“At last!” Markus exclaimed as he took it, and let Nines help him off the floor. “I think it’s safe to say you don’t need to protect me anymore.” Markus said this with a sly smirk, and Nines smiled back at him in response.

Markus moved to the middle of the room, and shot his arms out to either side, throwing lighting out his palms. The energy activated the dormant cullis gates where they struck.

“We can use this to reach the docks. Now follow me.” Markus led the way to one of the cullis gates, and Nines trailed close behind.

The gate worked, and suddenly they were at the docks. Nines’s heart tripled its rhythm in his chest, seeing the instruments of their escape so close at hand. They were almost there. He was _almost free_.

Markus destroyed two of the three docked ships to ensure Elijah’s men couldn’t pursue them after they set sail. They raced for the third, but were swarmed by waves of enemies blocking their way.

Nines and Markus slaughtered a swath through them all. Nothing could stand between them and their freedom.

It felt like another eternity, that trudge towards the ship, but eventually all that stood in their path were the recruits the boat had carried in, trembling in fear of them at the end of the dock. Markus was the one who addressed them.

“If you want to live, I suggest you all get back on the ship with us!”

Blessedly, nobody needed to be told twice. Everyone hustled back onto the ship, and within minutes, they set sail.

Slowly and steadily, they left the sinister walls of the Tattered Spire behind.

With each passing second, the tightness loosened in Nines’s chest.

When he looked up into the clear, open sky for the first time in many, many years, he knew it to be true.

They had escaped.

They were free.

And they had the Hero of Will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Garth is bae and now Markus is too woot


	4. The Hero of Skill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally free from the Spire, all that's left is to find the Hero of Skill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.k.a. in which Gavin FINALLY makes an appearance for like 2 seconds I'm so sorry.
> 
> He'll be in almost all of Chapter 5, though.

Two women awaited their arrival at the Oakfield docks.

Once they’d anchored, Nines disembarked first, weapon in hand, intending to determine whether or not they were a threat. He looked to them, and he saw--

Red. Dark skin cloaked in red.  _ Amanda _ .

The memories slotted back into place.

Nines dropped the cutlass and raced to Amanda, squeezing her in a tight embrace. She held Nines warmly, comfortable and safe, like he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Ten years…” Amanda murmured by his ear. “Welcome back, little Sparrow.”

“Not so little anymore!” Another voice said. Something clicked in his mind at the sound, and Nines turned so fast he almost fell on his face.

_ Kara _ . The other woman was Kara, his best friend, and she was beaming at him, waving a hand cheekily at him as if he wasn’t right there.

Nines barreled straight into her in his excitement, almost sending the both of them sprawling to the ground, but she only laughed and nearly hugged the life out of him in return.

“I can’t believe you got even  _ bigger _ , you were already tall enough as it was,” she teased when she set him down. Nines only shrugged, unable to reign in his elated smile.

It was true. When he left for the Spire, he was only about half a head taller than Kara, and not too much broader in the shoulders. Now, she could plaster her entire form against Nines without being visible on his other side.

“I take it you know these people?” Markus called from the pier. Nines jolted in place; he’d forgotten about Markus in his excitement. He hurried back over to him, eager to assure the man that his allies were no threat.

“Markus, this is Amanda,” Nines told him, gesturing towards the seer. “She’s the one who sent me to rescue you from the Spire.”

Markus appraised her from a neutral distance, and Amanda weathered his judgement patiently. Markus must’ve come to a favorable decision, because a few seconds later he stepped forward and extended his hand to her.

“I’d wager you have need of my abilities,” he said, “and I can think of few better ways to repay you both for helping me regain my freedom than taking down the very man who imprisoned me. I will join you in your efforts.”

Amanda smiled beneath her hood, and shook his hand.

The agreement made, Amanda turned to address Nines. “Markus and I have much to discuss about our upcoming plans. In the meantime, feel free to reacquaint yourself with the lands and people of Albion. Much has changed in your absence.” 

She paused, and then, more warmly, she added, “Welcome home, little Sparrow.” Amanda nodded to him in farewell, and then she and Markus disappeared in a burst of blue light, returning to the Guild, no doubt.

A pang of regret struck Nines as it finally sunk in.  _ Ten years _ . Would anything be the same as how he left it?

“Hey, don’t worry,” Kara said, elbowing him in the side to get his attention. He refocused on her. “I can show you around, show you what’s new and what’s different. It’ll be fun!”

Nines smiled, relaxed by her enthusiasm, followed after her as she started up the hill to Oakfield, gearing up to fill him in on all he’d missed.

“Seriously, you won’t  _ believe _ some of the stuff that’s happened while you were gone. You remember that bandit problem people were talking about in Brightwood? ‘Cause I’ve got a story for you. Oh, and you won’t believe what Barnum has done to Westcliff!”

* * *

As tantalizing as the tale of that bandit problem sounded, the first thing Kara showed him was Oakfield.

The town had practically tripled in size since he saw it last.

He stood, awestruck and gaping, in the middle of  _ so many houses _ where a hillside used to be, and Kara resorted to pulling him by the arm to yank him out of his stupor. “Just wait until you see the Temple!”

She was right, he should’ve withheld his amazement, because the Temple had undergone an exceptionally more extravagant transformation.

The path to the top of the hill was now paved with beautiful white stones. The grounds of the Temple were walled in, more buildings had been added, there was even a  _ pool _ .

“When did this happen?” Nines asked Kara as he wonderingly took it all in.

She puffed her chest out in pride. “After you set off for the Spire, I heard from Brother Timothy-- he’s the Head Abbot now-- that cultists from the Temple of Shadows were planning to poison the holy water in the Wellspring cave. I took care of it, and their leader, and ever since--” she cast her arms outward, indicating the natural splendor that surrounded them, “the Temple of Light has flourished, and Oakfield along with it.”

Kara beamed, and Nines returned it with a soft smile. Albion had done well to have her in Nines’s absence.

“This is really it though, as far as Oakfield goes. Come on, I’ve still gotta show you Westcliff; we’ll pass Brightwood along the way.”

She pulled Nines toward the coach house, and he indulged her eagerly, attentive as she chattered away at his side.

* * *

As they rode through Brightwood in their hired carriage, Kara told Nines the grand story of her epic showdown with the local bandits.

She had heard rumors all throughout Albion that highwaymen and mercenaries were harassing Brightwood Farm. Eventually, she decided to pay the owner, Giles, a visit, to see if there was any truth to them.

Unfortunately, there were. Giles told her that an outlaw called Ripper had already killed his wife and was planning to come back for more. Giles had already sent his son to the city for his own safety, but he could hardly fight a crew of two dozen ruffians all on his own.

With Kara on the case, however, the matter was settled quickly. She strode right up to their hideout-- strode, her words-- and systematically clobbered them all. Clobbered, also her words. It was a rather impassioned retelling. Nines made no effort to hide his amused smirk.

She had apparently defeated Ripper quite soundly, trussed him up, and deposited him on Giles’s doorstep.

Giles, who not long ago retired as a loyal and respected senior member of the town guard, saw to it that Ripper was hanged publicly in Bowerstone for all to jeer at. The outlaw paid for his crimes at the very hands of those he hurt.

Kara was a very engaged storyteller. If Nines focused on her, he could almost forget how his hands trembled when he felt the rough jerking of the rickety carriage beneath his feet.

* * *

When they made it to the Bandit Coast, Kara suggested that they move to the roof of the carriage, to deter any would-be ambushers. Nines agreed as soon as the words were out of her mouth, and he was out of the vehicle so fast Kara was left talking to empty air.

She joined him on the roof, and only noticed how much more relaxed he looked when his tense expression was gone.

Nines spent the rest of the road to Westcliff telling Kara about his parents, and about Connor.

* * *

They arrived in Westcliff before nightfall, thankfully avoiding the threat of Balverines, and as Kara hopped down to the ground she swore up and down that they would never ride in a carriage ever again, how could he not let her know that he had such terrible memories associated with them, walking was perfectly fine for a pair of strapping young Heroes such as themselves.

Nines brushed her off and insisted that it was fine. Private coaches as a means of transportation were far too efficient; there was no faster way to get across Albion, and he would deal. Kara scoffed at him, but didn’t protest any further.

Once they’d both set both feet on the ground, Nines took the chance to look around.

Kara was definitely right, when she said he wouldn’t believe what Barnum had done to Westcliff.

Nines was  _ looking _ at it, and he still couldn’t believe what Barnum had done to Westcliff.

Gone were the thugs and roughed-up crucible-goers. Gone were the half-finished buildings and shoddy little stalls.

Nines scanned the crowd feverishly, and not a single individual looked anything less than  _ respectable _ . The buildings were nice. There were new shops. Actual food was on sale in one of the stalls, as opposed to that highly suspicious mystery meat Nines had come across back when he was trying to stock up for the Crucible.

Barnum had actually managed to turn Westcliff-- the bandit capital of  _ all of Albion _ \-- into a family-friendly tourist trap.

By the Light, he was so proud of the man. Nines could feel tears well in his eyes.

Which Kara kind of looked at him funny for, but he was quick to scrub a hand across his face and ask her to show him around. She was perfectly happy to indulge him.

She gave him the grand tour, starting with the shops closest to the gates, passing by the Crucible, still wildly popular, introducing him to the new tavern, The Foaming Jugs, and ending at the Westcliff Shooting Range, where the targets now looked like bandits instead of townspeople. Nines had never grown comfortable with his pistol, but the prizes they offered made it look like fun to try sometime.

When Kara had shown him all there was to see, Nines begged off, insistent that he had to go find Barnum. She bid him well, and reminded him to secure a room at the tavern before it got too late. That’s where she’d be.

Nines did find Barnum, and on sight, he gripped the man in a crushing hug and lifted him into the air, so happy he was to reunite with his old friend.

Barnum laughed jovially at Nines’s enthusiasm. When Nines was finally ready to put Barnum down, he offered they catch up over a drink. Barnum was quite eager to share the story of his success in the wake of Nines’s generous donation and subsequent departure for the Spire.

Nines listened, awed, as Barnum recounted his various enterprises through the last ten years over their two pints of ale. He had finally ditched the rather dubious advice of the Temple of Business and Yodeling-- Nines would have to ask Kara if people really could just make a Temple out of anything-- and trusted in his own entrepreneurial instincts, to his immense fortune.

Speaking of fortune, Barnum claimed, ten years was more than enough for him to set aside every piece of gold Nines had invested in him, plus interest.

Barnum took out a hefty sack of gold coins and pushed it across the table. Nines stared at it bug-eyed.

To be honest, he had completely forgotten that he had paid Barnum at all, both literally and otherwise. It certainly wasn’t anywhere near the amount that sat in front of him.

Nines carefully pulled the sack of coins closer to him and peered inside.

He furrowed his brow and pushed a hand under it, hefting it in his palm. That couldn’t be right. It was too heavy. There had to be at least ten thousand gold in there.

As if reading his mind, Barnum spoke. “Fifteen thousand gold coins,” he said proudly, though he was wise enough to keep his voice down in the bustle of the tavern. “And you deserve every last piece of it, young Sparrow, for giving me and the fine people of Westcliff a chance to show what we can be.”

Nines looked up at Barnum with tears in his eyes. He couldn’t summon the words to thank him, but he made sure to offer one last crushing hug and a promise to keep in touch before they parted ways for the night.

Barnum left the tavern for home-- he had bought a house in Westcliff-- and after bidding him goodbye Nines saw about getting his own bed for the night. He bought a bed at the tavern as Kara advised, and went to join her upstairs.

“Hey!” She called, waving at him, as he climbed the final steps. “I saved you the bed next to mine!”

That she had, Nines thought with fondness, spying her great warhammer laid haphazardly across the bed adjacent to hers. The tavern was fairly popular tonight, but evidently not even the hardened Crucible challengers they lodged with were brave enough to challenge Kara for a spot by the window.

He settled down and started getting ready for bed, keeping one ear open to Kara eagerly describing what she’d take him to see tomorrow.

* * *

They had just finished breakfast and decided to spectate on the afternoon’s Crucible matches when Amanda’s voice floated up from the Guild Seal.

“Markus and I have uncovered information on the whereabouts of the final Hero. Both of you, return to the Guild at once.”

Kara groaned aloud, and Nines stifled his own sigh of disappointment. But as brief as this reprieve had been, his desire for a bit of rest was ultimately overshadowed by the prospect of their victory close at hand. They had two of the three Heroes. They only needed one more.

This last one, and Nines would be able to avenge his brother.

Kara and Nines changed course for the coach house, and this time they rode on top the whole way back. The coachman looked at them a little funny, but let them do as they pleased.

They arrived in the Guild by that evening.

Amanda turned to face them from her place beside Markus, still bent low over a table piled with maps, books, and ancient-seeming texts.

“Welcome back, Kara, little Sparrow.”

Markus noticed their arrival upon hearing Amanda’s voice, and he moved towards them as well.

“Nines,” he began, “our friend has told me much about you.” He gestured towards Amanda, before lowering his head in apology.

“That night at the castle, your brother…” Nines’s heart lurched in his chest. He thought Markus had forgotten.

“I had no idea.” Markus lifted his head to meet Nines’s eyes. “If I’d known, I would’ve stopped him.”

His words did nothing to soothe the ache behind Nines’s ribs, to thaw the frost gripping Nines’s heart, but he nodded anyway. “Thank you,” he told Markus. “It means a lot to hear you say that.”

Markus nodded his acceptance.

In the silence that followed, Amanda spoke up once more. “We have information on the third Hero.”

All three Heroes looked to her.

“I suspect that the Thief is a pirate by the name of Gavin Reed. He runs the port of Bloodstone, to the southwest.”

“Thieves are a coin a dozen in Bloodstone,” Kara said from where she stood at Nines’s right. “What makes you so sure this one’s a Hero?”

“Reed takes down galleons with one bullet. High winds, rough seas, a mile away, it’s of no consequence. He picks off the captain. The more impossible the shot, the quicker the crew surrenders.”

That certainly sounded impossible for anyone but a Hero of Skill. Consistently quick and efficient, with minimal unnecessary death. Nines doubted someone without Hero blood could pull it off.

“Impressive,” Markus conceded, “but we’re not trying to make Elijah surrender.”

“No,” Amanda admitted, with something like a wicked smile curving her lips. “We are not.”

No one tried to disagree.

“The problem is this,” Amanda continued. “Bloodstone is surrounded by Wraithmarsh on three sides-- and ocean on the fourth.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Markus dismissed with a wave of his hand, “We can reach it via cullis gate.”

“Not this one,” Amanda replied. “It leads only to Bower Lake.”

Kara leaned across Nines to address Markus on his other side. Nines leaned back obligingly. “What do you mean? Do you have another one?”

“I built one, at my tower,” Markus told them. “It can get us to Wraithmarsh.”

“Does it work?” Nines asked him.

“It will take some time to activate, but it should work.”

Nines pulled a face. He didn’t trust that one bit. Why did magic have to be so obtuse? This was why he ignored most of his Will spells.

“You must all go together,” Amanda warned them. “Elijah has sent men to guard Brightwood tower.”

“Alright, well, the sooner the better,” Kara said, hefting her hammer onto her shoulders. “Let’s go!”

Amanda dismissed them, and they raced after Kara, off to find the final Hero.

* * *

Markus stopped them when they arrived in Brightwood.

“There’s a back way into the tower. I’ll show you; just follow me.”

Nines and Kara fell back, and let Markus lead the way.

The crept through the forest, making their way to the back of the tower. Eventually, Markus took them up a small overhang that looked out over the lake surrounding the path that was to be there back entrance.

Markus swore at what he saw. “Elijah’s men. They’re looking for me.”

Nines followed Markus’s gaze, and frowned. Several groups of guards dotted the bridge to the tower.

“They’re between us and the cullis gate. We’ll have to fight our way through.”

Kara grinned at Markus’s words and shouldered her hammer. “Just how I like it.”

Nines brandished his own axe, and grinned back.

They tore through every thug in their path. Nines knew Kara was more than capable, but he was somewhat surprised to see that Markus was a formidable fighter. Nines knew he was powerful, but he worried Markus’s abilities might have been more theoretical than practical, serving him better in experiments than in fights.

Nines was very pleased to be wrong.

* * *

They found the cullis gate at the entrance to the main tower.

“I will need to concentrate to start the gate,” Markus warned them. “I must rely on the two of you to watch my back.” He looked at Nines and Kara pointedly in turn. They both nodded their sincerity.

Nines and Kara took up their stances. Markus got into position. He seemed to focus for a second, and then he threw his arms forward. Two lashes of lightning stretched from his palms to the cullis gate, and Markus’s eyes glowed electric blue with his power.

“All right, it’s working!” He yelled over the crackling of his magic. “Just keep them off of me until it’s fully charged!”

Seconds later, everything went to shit.

Henchmen started swarming from the staircase. Nines and Kara cut them down easily, but it was difficult to keep them away from Markus.

Then, the Commandants started coming. Yes, the one Nines suffered at the hands of was long gone, but it made these new abominations no easier to face. Even without those bad memories, with such definitive command over Will spells, they were more powerful than any other opponent Nines had faced to date.

It felt like hours that they struggled against the enemy. With every grunt that they felled, another would take its place. Nines was almost at his limit, and he could see Kara about to hit hers too, when Markus gave them the all clear.

“Go, now!” He yelled, and neither of them needed to be told twice.

* * *

Nines groaned in pain as he woke up.

He tried to lift his head, confused. Where was he? The last thing he remembered was going through the portal with Kara and Markus.

Kara and Markus… Nines pushed himself to his feet, grunting at the wave of dizziness it pushed onto him. He was disoriented, but he didn’t think he was injured. He should be fine in a few moments; he needed to find Kara and Markus.

Once he managed to stand, he tried taking stock of his surroundings.

Nines frowned. Bars. On all sides. He was-- he took a bar in his grip and rattled it just to be sure. Yes. He was in a cage.

Lovely.

A scraggly, gap-toothed man suddenly emerged from the mist. Nines stepped away.

“Ooh, well, lookie here,” the crazy man said, eyeing Nines like a slab of meat. “Still alive, are we?”

The man cackled. “You from Bloodstone, eh?” He appeared to give it some thought, and then pressed the torch he was holding closer to the bars of the cage, squinting, trying to get a better look at Nines.

“No...no. You ain’t got the stink of it about you.”

Nines stood straighter in the cell. Bloodstone must be closeby. So if he did make it through the cullis gate, that would make this Wraithmarsh.

“‘Tis a wicked place,” Nines’s jailor continued. “Would be burnt to the ground if there was any justice.”

The man went silent for a minute, putting his free hand to his chin as he thought.

“So, what do I do about you?” His laugh was unhinged. “Reckon I’ll burn you as well!”

Nines made no comment.

Just then the mist, merely mild only seconds ago, descended upon them like a cloud had swallowed them whole.

The man appeared to panic. He forgot Nines and took off running, torch in hand into the mist, presumably back to wherever he called home.

And then, “No-- no, please!”

A shrill, inhuman scream ripped through the night alongside the man’s, the sound tearing down Nines’s spine and sending him rocketing to the back of his cell in fear.

He moved not a muscle, his heart beating double-time, expecting whatever beast awaited him to come leaping out of the shadows. Instead, nothing happened. Within minutes, the mist receded. Nines’s heart started to slow again.

A familiar voice cut through the tense silence. “You should be able to hear me now.”

_ Amanda _ . Thank the Light for Amanda. Nines heaved a great sigh of relief.

“The cullis gate malfunctioned and Kara and Markus were sent back to the Guild. You’ve made it to Wraithmarsh, but you’re on your own for now.”

Great. Just wonderful. Alone again. Why couldn’t Kara come with him to the creepy monster-infested marsh? This was absolutely typical.

Amanda continued through the Guild Seal. “Be wary. The fog here is unnatural. Somehow it dampens the Guild Seal.”

So, no more helpful advice, plus magical enemies, plus possible Will spell interference. This place was  _ lovely _ .

What did Nines  _ do _ ?

“Bloodstone is on the far side of the marshed,” Amanda continued. “I suggest you head there, quickly.”

Nines breathed a terrible, long-suffering sigh, and got to work.

The man who had locked him up when he emerged on the other side of the cullis gate-- unconscious, no doubt, if it malfunctioned-- must have been short of a few marbles, because he didn’t take any of Nines’s stuff.

It was hard to draw his axe from where it rested on his back in the confined space of the cell, but he managed it. The prison was mostly wooden with iron bars and locks attached, so with a few whacks in the right places Nines was a free man once again.

Nines looked to the mist surrounding him on all sides, still at a safe distance but intimidating nonetheless, and steeled himself against the darkness.

* * *

Though Nines expected monstrous creatures to leap out at him at any second, the first hour of his trek through the marsh was relatively peaceful.

The mist receded, for the most part, and he was able to get a better look at his surroundings.

Nines was rather unnerved by what he saw.

Cottages. A coach house. Old fences lining ruined paths. All dilapidated beyond repair, all abandoned with no trace of any former inhabitants.

It was eerie.

He came upon a cluster of houses further into the marsh. It must’ve been something of a town square, once upon a time.

Nines stepped forward, into the damp, and the mist immediately closed in all around him.

Amanda’s voice managed to connect through the Guild Seal. “Something in the marsh is controlling the fog and using it against you. You need to find the source and destroy it.”

Naturally, Nines thought with a stifled groan. He readied his axe, wary.

Nines stepped further into the mist, and a monster coalesced from the shadows.

A Banshee.

She loosed a blood curdling scream, and Nines, unable to withstand the horrible noise, faltered in his advance as he tried to cover his ears.

By the time he scraped his wits back together, the Banshee had vanished.

Nines looked around, frantic, anticipating an attack from any angle, but the monster didn’t reappear.

She spoke to him instead.

“You still hear Connor’s death cry when you try to sleep at night, don’t you?”

Her scream had curdled his blood, but her malevolent whisperings made it  _ boil _ . Nines swept his gaze across the marsh, but the fog was everywhere, and he could hardly see three feet in front of him.

"Elijah laughs every night as he remembers that night in his study. He still keeps the gun with which he shot you and your brother." 

Nines caught sight of the Banshee across the marsh and charged, but his axe swing met only empty air.

"Did you know Connor didn't die right away from that shot? No, he watched you fall through that window, heard as your body thudded against the ground and cried bitter tears before a final shot from Elijah ended his life."

Nines’s heart stuttered in his chest, and for just the slightest second, he froze. No.  _ No. _ That couldn’t be true, Connor-- Connor was dead. He was dead long before Nines took that dive out the window, his eyes were completely lifeless while Nines had begged him to stay awake, when Nines met them right before the final gunshot--

The monster was  _ lying _ .

She dared say such things about Connor!

Nines roared with rage when he sighted the Banshee again, but before he could get close enough to cut her she simply vanished once more.

"Could you do nothing to save your brother? Were you too weak to stop his death?"

No.

“Shut up, you vile--!” Nines sliced through nothing.

“Connor would have done anything to protect you. He even gave his life, and what have you done about it? Nothing, nothing at all." 

_ No _ . He had done  _ everything _ , all that Nines was was for the sole purpose of avenging his brother, his beloved older brother who would’ve done  _ anything _ for him, who  _ died _ for  _ him _ , trying to give them a better life, a chance to be a proper family again--

“What would Connor say if he could see you now? Do you think he would be proud? Do you think he would recognize the creature you've become?"

Nines stopped. Halted in his tracks. Stilled his weapon.

He thought about it, for a second.

He had spilled a lot of blood, these past twelve years. Killed a lot of people. Earned a lot of scars, and made a lot of enemies. What would his brother think, if he knew? If he could comprehend the blood on Nines’s hands?

But the more Nines thought about it, the more he realized it didn’t matter.

Connor loved him. Connor would be proud of him, no matter what.

After all, Nines was Connor’s baby brother.

Nines closed his eyes and lifted his axe.

He heard the rustle of shadows in the mist ahead, and sent his weapon flying.

When he opened his eyes, his axe was buried to the hilt in the dying Banshee’s chest.

* * *

The fog lifted with the death of the Banshee, and Amanda was able to check in with him more frequently as he continued his trek through the marsh.

She told him to be wary of more, but despite the dismal atmosphere, the only other horrors Nines came across were stray Balverines and Hollow Men, all easy to pick off on their own.

Amanda spent some of his journey telling him of the tragedy of Oakvale, the town that Wraithmarsh used to be.

Centuries ago, the peaceful town was razed by bandits. The survivors rebuilt, only to be destroyed once more by the hands of one of their own.

A villager made a deal with dark forces, seeking eternal life. In exchange, the shadows took the lives of every other resident. Everyone the man new, everyone he loved, died for his selfish whims.

This man, anguished at what he had done, threw himself into the sea, no longer desiring his ill-gotten immortality. But nothing could save the lives already lost.

Its residents all perished, Oakvale fell to ruin, and was soon engulfed by the marsh, creating the horrorscape Nines waded through today.

Amanda finished her tale and went silent, and Nines walked on.

He couldn’t be far from Bloodstone now.

* * *

He faced one more Banshee before making it through Wraithmarsh.

She wasn’t nearly as much of a trial as the first.

* * *

Nines collapsed on the far side of the crypt, exhausted.

Naturally, there was a Swamp Troll at the very end of the path, right before the cemeteries that bordered Bloodstone. On the wrong end of two Banshee fights and over half a day of slogging through the marsh, it was more than a pain to deal with.

Nines  _ really _ needed to get better with ranged weapons.

He allowed himself a brief respite of about fifteen minutes or so before dragging himself up once again. No rest for the weary, after all.

He couldn’t let the Hero of Skill slip through his fingers.

Nines dusted himself off and started towards the city.

* * *

It was early afternoon when Nines turned the corner into Bloodstone, and in the light of day it was quite the sight.

It was a coastal city, which made sense considering its notoriety for piracy. A sizable cove stretched inland and the town curved around it, backing up onto the hills behind.

The port was active and dotted with ships, and the cityscape was crude but bustling, encompassing all that the eye could see. Nines might’ve been daunted at the prospect of finding a lone man in a city this large, but he had an idea of where he could start.

If this Thief was a true pirate, there were only two places he could be.

His ship, or the local tavern.

* * *

Nines walked into The Leper’s Arms and was immediately bombarded with a cacophony of riotous cheer.

The tavern was alight with drink and celebration, the many patrons raucous. Nines didn’t really frequent a lot of taverns, but he was pretty sure this was a lot for one in the afternoon. He shouldered his way through drunken revelers as he tried to make his way to the bar.

He spotted his quarry before he got there.

In a table in the middle of the room, leaning back in his chair and lifting a flagon of ale as his companions sat gathered around him, was Gavin Reed.

Reed’s gaze connected with his across the room, and the second their eyes met Nines was violently struck through with  _ desire _ .

Now, Nines was no virgin. He had spent his youth much like any other, and he’d had his fair share of offers to bed. He’d even accepted most of them.

Not once had he ever made an offer of his own. Sex was nice to do with someone else, but he’d never had the urge to do it with someone in particular. He heard a lot about it from other boys his age; I want this girl, I desire that boy, this person has stolen my heart. Perhaps Nines just didn’t know many people, but in all his life, he had never been able to relate.

But met with those piercing eyes, those muscled arms, and that devilish grin, curving up at him from across the room, for the very first time, Nines could feel himself  _ want _ .

He had frozen in his tracks, so Reed was the one to address him.

Seeing the intruder in their midst, the Thief lowered his flagon back to the table, turning away from his companions to face Nines. With Reed’s attention diverted, the table went silent, and everyone followed his gaze across the room, his influence magnetic. Within seconds, the whole tavern was hushed; all revelry paused in its wake.

“Well look what we got here, a new face! That’s something you don’t see every day.” Reed flicked his eyes up and down Nines, assessing. Nines had to suppress the childish urge to stand a little straighter trying to impress. “You must’ve made it through the marshes.”

Reed met Nines’s gaze. “Not many are strong enough to manage that.”

Inwardly, Nines preened at his praise. Not a drop of it showed on his face.

“So tell me,” Reed continued, planting his right elbow on the table as he leaned towards Nines, “why in the  _ fuck _ would you go to all that effort to find this run-down shithole?”

The entire tavern erupted in laughter, and Nines waited for the jeering and the sounds of drinks sloshing to die down before he responded.

“I’m looking for the Hero of Skill,” Nines said, perfectly evenly. He leveled a glance at the ridiculously handsome man before him, doing his level best not to let on how he was dedicatedly undressing him in the back of his mind. “You.”

Reed’s expression shuttered. He spoke a few hushed words to the woman standing at his right before getting up from his seat and stalking towards Nines.

“Gentlemen!” The woman yelled to the other patrons, distracting them, as Reed grabbed Nines’s arm and yanked him back towards the door, “The Captain wishes you all one more round, before you all fuck off for the day!”

A great roar of eager assent followed them out of the tavern.

Nines stayed silent as Reed led him through the ramshackle streets of Bloodstone, with a fierce grip on his arm all the while.

Idly, Nines took a moment to appreciate how he could feel the warmth of Reed’s palm bleeding through the fabric of his shirt as they marched up stone steps and through cramped alleyways.

He might’ve had a problem.

They climbed for quite a while before finally cresting the great hill Bloodstone was built into. Atop it loomed the tallest structure in the city, their likely destination. Reed pulled Nines into the great mansion and led them to a back room. He shoved Nines in with him and turned around to lock the door behind them.

Nines lifted a curious eyebrow, but said nothing.

Reed turned back around to face him. “Look,” he began warily, “I know who you are. The Sparrow, right? And I know why you’re here. But I can’t help you.”

Fuck if Nines was going to give up that easily. “And why not? Too busy stealing from the rich?” He tilted his head in reference to the frankly ludicrously lavish building they were occupying. It wasn’t very remarkable from the outside, aside from its sheer size, but upon looking around Nines was pretty sure all of the furniture was gold-plated, and that was just the one room.

“What?” Reed started a bit, his expression clearly betraying his confusion. “Oh, no, this is mine,” he replied indignantly when he deduced the implication in Nines’s tone. “I earned it, fair and square.”

Forgive Nines if he didn’t believe that. “By killing the previous owner, I expect?”

Reed crossed his arms and made no effort to hide his smirk. “You could say it was a bit of a hostile takeover.” He let the words settle a bit before he continued. “No, this is the Lionhead’s base of operations.”

Nines couldn’t withhold his surprise. “Your crew lives here?”

“Yeah, provided they follow the rules and get in before curfew. Damn place is certainly big enough.”

Nines considered that for a second. “Then where is everybody?”

“Ah,” Reed said with a grin, “you’ve met them already. We pulled a fucking  _ amazing _ haul earlier today-- one of Elijah’s supply ships. Hundreds of thousands of gold coins worth of loot, more if we can fence it well.” Reed’s eyes gleamed as he recounted his winnings, sparks of his excitement making them shine from within. Had gray eyes always been so breathtakingly beautiful? Nines thought it was very unfair.

Reed, though still a bit bright-eyed, recovered himself and continued, though Nines had mostly tuned him out by now, as his thoughts had rather devolved from the current conversation. “We were celebrating down at the tavern when you busted in, with all of your weapons and armor and,” He waved a hand as if to encompass Nines in general, “whole Hero schtick. I should’ve known when I first saw you come in, honestly, but it didn’t click right away. I know Heroes are supposed to be big, but--damn. You’re fucking huge, has anyone ever told you that?”

Nines thought back to what Kara said when he returned from the Spire. He looked to Reed. It didn’t escape his notice that the Thief only came up to about his chin. Nines found that he was a fan of the size difference. “Once or twice.”

“Damn,” Reed repeated, giving Nines a slower, more thorough once-over. This time, Nines didn’t fight the urge to stand up straighter. He set his shoulders, and he could see Reed swallow at the motion.

Nines smirked.

“So, you’re a very successful pirate, congratulations. Why does this mean you can’t help me take down Elijah?”

Reed’s expression soured. Nines mourned the loss, but he was more than willing to weather Reed’s glare. It was yet another good look on him.

“ _ Because _ ,” Reed began indignantly, “I can’t just fuck off to go save the world with the first so-called ‘Hero’ that crosses my path. I have a damn good operation here. And I have my crew, I’m not leaving them behind.”

Nines furrowed his brows. This could be a problem. “You’re the last one we need. It shouldn’t take that long to kill Elijah and take the Spire. I’m sure they could make do without you for a few weeks.”

Reed shot him a disparaging look and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Yeah, no. No one else in Bloodstone has even  _ heard _ of you. Try coming back when you’re famous enough that announcing I’m ditching my crew for some punkass inlander won’t leave me fending off a mutiny.”

The Thief scoffed, clearly kidding, but Nines seized onto the implication hidden in his words.

“So you’re saying that if everyone in Bloodstone knows who I am, your crew included, you’ll consider joining me.”

Reed froze, caught. “No, that’s not what--”

“Challenge accepted,” Nines interrupted, horrifically smug. If Reed wanted Nines to be famous, oh, he would be  _ famous _ . The whole of Bloodstone would sing his praises by the time Nines was through. Reed included, if he had his way.

Nines would admit it was unlikely, but a guy could dream.

Reed stilled as he tried to think of a way to argue out of it, but coming up with nothing, he slumped over and sighed. “You know what, fine. Be my guest. Just don’t come crying to me when all your efforts end up for jack shit.  _ Nothing _ gets through from the inland, Sparrow. No matter how many babies you save from bandits, no one in Bloodstone’ll give a flying fuck.”

“It’s Nines, Captain Reed,” Nines replied, blithely ignoring Reed’s rather staggering vote of confidence.

“What?” Ah, there was that adorably dumbfounded look of bafflement again.

“My name. My title is the Sparrow, but my name is Nines.”

“Right,” Reed nodded, seeming a bit skeptical. “In that case, cut the Captain Reed shit. I’m not your captain, and you’re sure as fuck not a member of my crew. Call me Gavin.”

Nines’s lips curled at the corners. “Gavin.”

* * *

Nines had turned right around and waltzed straight out of the Lionhead mansion, leaving Gavin sputtering behind him, obviously offended at such an abrupt dismissal.

It didn’t matter. Nines was a man on a  _ mission _ .

He’d got this.

* * *

It turned out there was a  _ lot _ going on around Albion.

Nines started in Oakvale, where Kara told him of someone loitering around the Temple of Light and asking for help from Hero types. He found the person and dealt with the local Hobbe infestation.

In Rookridge, he stopped for a drink at The Lucky Heather, where the barman woefully spun a tale of the horrible stench that was driving the tavern out of business. Nines took a whiff, and could certainly smell why. He’d thought it was just bandit stink, but he was more than willing to hunt down the real root of the problem.

Nines cursed himself vibrantly when he did manage to uncover the source of the rot. Trolls were a  _ pain in the ass _ . He painstakingly slogged through the fight in the tiny Wellspring Cave and eventually came out victorious.

He stunk like dead Rock Troll when he went back to the tavern to report the good news, but the barman was gracious enough not to mind.

Nines visited the travelers’ camp, his old home, on his way towards Brightwood, and came across a distraught old woman worried for her precious grandson’s wellbeing. Nines found the grandson exploring a dungeon in Bower Lake and escorted him to safety with little fuss. It really wasn’t that hard; the grandmother had carried on like her “Charlie” was a defenseless little boy, but the poor man was Nines’s age, and reasonably capable with a sword. Nines left Charles to deal with his grandmother with an encouraging pat on the shoulder before continuing on his way.

Kara had told Nines he should visit Brightwood Farm if he got the chance. When she heard he’d be making the rounds throughout Albion, she had asked him to check up on Giles, make sure he wasn’t being harrassed by any more outlaws.

Giles’s farm was absolutely beautiful, stretching across vast acres of forest. It was easily at least thrice the size of the farm Nines and his brother used to call home, he observed, and weathered the pang of loss that accompanied the thought.

Nines walked through orchards on one side and vegetable plots on the other as he made his way towards the main buildings.

Giles appeared quite wary upon spotting him, but that cleared right up when Nines introduced himself as a friend of Kara’s. He smiled brightly and laughed heartily, eagerly welcoming Nines into his home.

Kara would be able to rest easy, as Giles happily informed Nines that there’d been no more trouble on the farm whatsoever since Kara helped them drive off Ripper and his crew. The outlaw had hanged in Bowerstone, jeered at by the spectating citizens, cowering before the gallows in a bitter end much deserved. Nobody had bothered Giles or his family since, and the farm was left to flourish in the absence of the local criminal element.

That said, Giles did have a favor to ask Nines, should he be willing. Giles was getting old, he claimed, and was starting to entertain the idea of passing the farm onto his son. He wanted his son to be able to raise a family there.

The problem was, Giles told him, that his son was terrible with women. “I’ve done my best to help. Even tried setting him up with a… Considerate town lass. Didn’t work out, that. Hasn’t even spoken to a girl since.”

The weight of crushing realization settled onto Nines, but he said nothing.

Giles asked him to find his son a city girl, since he didn’t seem very interested in the local ones. Nines really didn’t think that was the problem, but he agreed.

_ Someone _ had to help that poor boy.

“Once you find the right lass, introduce them, and,well, the rest is up to fate, I suppose. It worked for me and my Jenny. You ask me, there’s no reason for love to be complicated.”

A memory of Gavin surfaced in Nines’s mind, unbidden.

No, Nines thought with a smile. Perhaps there wasn’t.

* * *

Nines tracked down Giles’s son, Rupert, to get his opinion on what kind of girl he might like to meet.

Nines was thoroughly unsurprised by Rupert’s response.

“I don’t want to get married… to a woman. Any woman. You understand?”

Oh, Nines understood.

He remembered growing up in the travelers’ camp, playing and fighting with the other kids his age under the hot summer sun. Some days, his gaze would be drawn to one of the girls. Others, it would follow one of the boys. It was those days that Nines couldn’t stamp down his panic, his fear that Amanda might find out and send him away.

Amanda had sat him down on the second summer he started looking at the other girls and boys and let him know that she didn’t give a rat’s ass who he liked, loved, or fucked.

He had launched himself into her arms and sobbed.

“You should tell him,” Nines told Rupert. Nines knew he was lucky, to have someone who would never judge him for who he loved, and not everyone would be blessed with the same acceptance. But he also knew that he would never wish that feeling of panic, that feeling of awful slowly bubbling dread, on  _ anybody _ , and that life would be so much easier with that burden lifted.

“I want to,” Rupert replied softly. “Maybe he’d understand. But. I just can’t.”

That, too, Nines understood. If Amanda hadn’t figured him out on her own, Nines might’ve never told her. Rupert didn’t deserve to be rushed if he wasn’t ready to tell his father.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Rupert told him brokenly. Nines considered for a second, and made a decision.

“Tell me about him,” he offered.

“What?” Rupert peeled his gaze from the ground and looked up at him, confused.

“The person you  _ would _ like to marry, if your dad wasn’t in the picture.”

Rupert looked shocked, and for a moment, Nines thought he wouldn’t go through with it.

But slowly, Rupert started to open up. Nines spent the rest of the afternoon at the farm, sitting cross-legged in the middle of a carrot patch, listening to a farmer’s son contemplate the kind of person he could grow to love.

* * *

Nines’s next stop was Bowerstone.

Markus had caught wind of some strange rumors about the Cemetery Mansion; flashing lights, weird sounds, bizarre odors, all witnessed by hapless citizens as they passed by the old cemetery manor. Nines remembered what had happened the last time he’d been to Bowerstone Cemetery, and reasoned it would probably be for the best if he checked it out.

He knocked on the front door decisively and waited patiently for a response. After a minute or so, Nines could hear someone plod over to the entrance. The slider set into the wood was pulled to the side, and the stranger narrowed their eyes nervously at Nines through the gap.

“I’m not in,” the man said. Nines wordlessly cocked an eyebrow. “Well, I’m in, but I’m busy. Doing absolutely nothing abnormal.”

One incredibly suspicious individual performing definitely suspicious deeds, check.

The man closed the slider, but Nines didn’t move. He figured he’d give it a moment, see if this guy would dig his own grave any deeper. He seemed like the anxious type.

Sure enough, the man opened the slider again a minute later. “Still there? Go away! Unless…” He seemed to consider something for a moment before brightening with sudden inspiration. “Yeah! How would you like to assist in this century’s most important scientific experiment?”

If it’d help Nines get to the bottom of whatever shady shit was going on here, why not? Nines shrugged an affirmative.

The man, Victor, he told Nines, nodded animatedly, clearly excited. “Very, very important stuff. All you have to do is collect a few precious bits of corpse.”

Victor’s voice started to trail off at the end, and Nines could feel a blood vessel pulse hotly in his temple. The face he was making couldn’t have been friendly.

“What I meant to say is,” Victor amended, cowering a little, “some totally above-board and non-creepy gathering of various anatomical specimens.”

Better, and yet also worse. This clearly meant that Victor wanted to send him on an almost certainly illegal, or at least morally dubious, and undoubtedly exceptionally creepy, fetch quest for body parts, if he was interpreting ‘bits of corpse’ correctly.

What the fuck was this man  _ doing _ ?

Nines, having long suffered the people of Albion, knew that at this point there was only one way to find out.

He agreed to help Victor… gather body parts, what the  _ fuck _ .

* * *

Victor directed him to Rookridge for the first ‘anatomical specimen.’ Sure enough, back in the Hobbe Cave Nines unearthed the remarkably well-preserved legs and pelvis of, according to the Witchspotters note he dug up along with them, one Lady Grey, once Mayor of Bowerstone, infamous enchantress and much loathed seductress. Nines would have been concerned, but he was pretty sure Lady Grey had no mystical abilities whatsoever; the Witchspotters were hardly known for being accurate in their accusations. It was probably safe to disturb her remains.

He offered a quick prayer of apology to the fallen mayor before he hauled Lady Grey’s legs under his arm and brought them back to Victor.

Nines presented the legs to Victor, and the man gasped at the sight of them, elated. “Oh, it’s her! It’s really, really her!”

Victor made to grab for Lady Grey’s lower half, but Nines was quick to maneuver it out of his reach. 

“What exactly are you planning to do with her corpse?” Nines asked Victor. He really couldn’t continue to go along with this harebrained scheme without knowing what in the fuck was going on. The thought of ‘I handed over the lower body of the notoriously sexy former mayor of Bowerstone to an incredibly suspicious gravekeeper’ ringing incessantly in the back of his skull just wasn't going to lull him to sleep at night.

Victor sighed, but stepped back. “I might as well tell you the truth now. I’m not just advancing the cause of science, you see. I’m… I’m advancing the cause of love.”

Nines almost dropped the legs on the floor, appalled.

Had he been fucking  _ right _ ?

“This…” Victor extended a hand towards the corpse, “this is Lady Grey. Well, a bit of her, anyway. She lived a long time ago-- an awful, barbaric time-- and she was the mayor of Bowerstone. Some people…well, they didn’t like her very much. Couldn’t see what a wonderful person she really was.”

Victor was starting to choke up. Nines was very confused. Didn’t this woman die centuries before either of them were even born?

Victor sniffled, but continued, shakily. “They called her a witch and… well, they chopped off her head. Then they buried her body in three different places.”

Ah, that explained a little. If they chopped off her head and Nines had already recovered her legs, that left the head in one place and the torso in another.

Victor was openly sobbing now. Nines considered. If the man was this broken up over simply the idea of his… beloved, apparently, being so mistreated in times past, Nines found it hard to believe that he could intend anyone any real harm.

Nines still resolved to be quick about recovering the next body part. Best to get this nonsense over with as soon as possible. Victor directed him to a tomb somewhere in Wraithmarsh, and he set off, leaving Lady Grey’s legs wrapped safely in a tarp and stowed in Victor’s basement.

...Nines swore that sounded worse than it was.

* * *

Nines found Lady Grey’s upper body sealed in a box in Twinblade’s Tomb, along with a second Witchspotters note.

He carried it back to the Cemetery Mansion with no trouble and laid it next to its lower half. Victor, excited at their gaining progress, told Nines eagerly that he could find Lady Grey’s head in a vault somewhere in Fairfax Gardens.

Nines set off for the Gardens with the promise of a swift return.

Victor hadn’t known which vault, exactly, her head would be in, so Nines did have to crack open a few crypts before he stumbled upon one with a corridor to a larger tomb. A few of the wandering nobles gave him the side-eye for his strange behavior, but for some reason nobody tried to stop him, so Nines shrugged inwardly and figured it was fine.

Nines made his way through the tomb and found Lady Grey’s head stashed in a sarcophagus alongside the third Witchspotters note.

He spared it a disparaging glance as he read it. These guys had  _ issues _ .

Nines held the head in his free hand as he trudged out of the tomb and back to the cemetery.

“I’m down in the basement!” Victor called when he returned to the mansion. “Everything’s ready!”

Nines followed Victor’s voice down the stairs, taking the steps carefully so as not to drop Lady Grey’s head. He’d been trying to figure out why some people had taken one look at him and run screaming in the other direction as he crossed the city, and it was truly unfortunate that it had taken him so long to realize that it was probably because he was, in fact, carrying around a severed human head.

Nines frowned. He hoped Gavin didn’t hear about this.

The basement was a bit dank but spacious and otherwise clean. On one side, a fireplace roared, and on the other, shelves and tables were piled high with papers, diagrams, books, potions, strange looking metal implements, and all manner of knick knacks Victor had acquired in his pursuit of love. Nines still had no idea what exactly Victor was planning to do here, but hey. Nines learned by doing.

Nines noticed that Victor had unwrapped the Lady’s legs and torso from their tarps and moved them onto a strangely outfitted metal table in the middle of the room, her remains facing upward and slotted together as best as such decayed material would allow. He moved towards Victor with the head, and Victor’s eyes lit up when he caught sight of it.

“Oh, at last!” He cried, raising his arms in his excitement. “I never thought this day would come, my sweet lady.”

Victor reached for the head, cooing, looking like he was attempting to caress it, but Nines pulled it out of his reach with a frown, untrusting. Victor scowled, but made no move to try and snatch it from him. Instead, he moved to the table in the middle of the room to stand before the rest of Lady Grey’s body.

“You must think I’m some sort of pervert,” he mumbled somberly. “A real creep.”

Nines shrugged in a way that he hoped was vaguely expressive. The thought had crossed his mind, naturally. The only thing was, his gut hadn’t agreed. He’d figured he could acknowledge both instincts and figure out what Victor’s deal was for himself.

Victor, eager to explain himself now that Nines had indicated his willingness to listen, continued. “I’ve been in love with Lady Grey for so many years, you see… Ever since I found a portrait of her in the attic.”

That… Explained a lot, actually. So it was love at first sight. From what Nines had heard, Lady Grey’s beauty was so absolutely bewitching that, well, more close-minded individuals might suspect witchcraft. Which was exactly what happened, unfortunately.

“She’s been the one woman I could talk to, the one woman who wouldn’t turn away from me in disgust,” Victor told him.

Nines’s brows drew together in concern. Turn away in disgust? Sure the guy’s awkward, but that’s a bit harsh. Nines had no idea people had such prejudices against gravediggers. He felt a tiny pang of sympathy echo in his chest for Victor’s plight.

“And now you’re wondering how such an amazing creature could ever love someone like me.”

Nines was, in fact, not wondering that, but Victor made a compelling point, so Nines did not interrupt.

“You see, this procedure…” Procedure? “It’s not just about reanimating dead tissue,”  _ What _ , what the  _ fuck _ , hold on,  _ reani _ \--“It’s also a love spell.”

What. the.  _ fuck _ .

Nines dropped the head on the floor.

Victor shrieked and rushed to the head, picking it up and murmuring soft reassurances to it as he brushed it off, turning it a bit to check for any damage. It was a severed head, Nines thought, you couldn’t get more damaged than that.

Oh Avo. What… had he gotten himself into?

Nines, struck dumb, could only stand motionless and gaping in disbelief. He watched Victor carefully lay the head on top of the torso before pulling the wings affixed to the sides of the metal table over the body, covering it almost completely. When the machine locked into place, Nines realized that this must be the contraption Victor was planning to use to “ _ reanimate _ ” his “ _ one true love _ .”

“Oh, we’ll be so happy. I’ll take care of her forever, just like she deserves,” Victor told Nines as he flipped switches and pulled levers, elation in his voice and a giddy smile on his face.

Nines was left reeling. Should he… Should Nines stop him? Was it ethically wrong to bring a corpse back to life? Would the result even be the real Lady Grey, or would it be some other entity existing in what remained of her body? Did ex-corpses have the same rights as the humans they once were? Was the love spell thing something he should be concerned about? Wait, spell? Did Victor dabble in magic?

“Stand back!” Victor cried from in front of his machines. “It’s time!”

All of a sudden, the apparatus Lady Grey’s corpse was encased in started spitting electricity, sending sparks flying across the basement as a great mechanical roar filled the room. Nines was driven back in surprise at the force of it. For several minutes, he could only shield his ears from the thunderous noise as Victor’s creation did its work. Eventually, the zapping gave way to an eerie green smoke that surrounded the corpse and nearly filled the whole room in a dense fog.

When the smoke dissipated, Nines could hardly believe what he saw. Where there was once a nearly completely desiccated segmented corpse, there now rested an almost ethereally beautiful, notably whole, and astonishingly  _ alive _ , human woman.

Even the once tattered rags of her clothes had been restored. How the fuck had Victor managed that?

Nines moved over and cautiously peered over the table at her as Victor lowered the metal sides. She was a bit on the pale side, but otherwise, she looked perfectly normal. He could see her breathing. Her hair was a rather nice blonde, full again when not minutes ago what little of it remained had been brittle and waxy--

Lady Grey’s blood red eyes flew open.

Nines shot across the room, his back pressed desperately against the wall. His pulse pounded in his chest. He could feel dread pooling in the pit of his stomach.

Slowly, terrifyingly, horribly slowly, Lady Grey turned her head towards him, almost twisting herself off the table in her effort to catch sight of him. When her ( _ cold, dead, sickly glassy _ ) eyes met his, Nines could swear his heart stopped in his chest. The blood chilled in his veins.

Without breaking eye contact, without  _ blinking _ , Lady Grey moved her legs off on the table, choppily, as if she wasn’t quite sure how to work them. Once the movement of her legs had halted, she started to sit up, like she couldn’t operate more than one part of her body at a time.

Her feet touched the ground. Nines swallowed nervously.

She took one step in his direction, and Nines bolted for the stairs.

He raced into the foyer and out the door, down the stone steps to the mansion, out of the Cemetery as fast as he could propel himself.

Distantly, before he’d gotten out of earshot, he could hear Victor calling out his thanks for Nines’s help in the pursuit of true love.

Oh,  _ fuck _ that, Nines thought hysterically. They deserved each other, clearly.

Blood red eyes and jerking limbs flashed across Nines’s vision.

He shuddered, sick to his stomach. That image would haunt his nightmares.

* * *

Nines didn’t stop running until he was safely hidden in Fiction Burns, the Bowerstone Market bookstore. He’d run the whole way, but was only mildly winded, and he had never in his life been more grateful for his Hero blood.

He took refuge behind the stacks as he panted, eager to catch his breath so he could blend in with the crowd. Luckily, though the store was fairly busy today no one paid him any mind, already accustomed to his “Hero antics,” as a local had explained to him the other day, whatever that meant. He’d have to ask Amanda to explain it to him later.

As his breathing started to slow back to its normal pace, Nines took to glancing at the shelves. Most of Fiction Burns’s stock was nonfiction, self-help books, or some absolute junk penned by Meredith Sock, but once in a while he’d find something useful. Something on history of Heroes, treatises on the Old Kingdom, or legends about the Old Gods was worth a look every once in a while.

Nines turned into another stack, eyes still scanning the shelves, and bumped right into someone, almost knocking the man onto the ground. Nines shot out an arm to steady him by his elbow before he fell, contrite and ready to apologize for not looking where he was going, but the stranger beat him to it.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, so sorry!” The man said, laughing, looking a little frazzled. The book in his hands was askew, but he’d managed to keep ahold of it through Nines’s jostling. “I just get so caught up, you see, but I know I shouldn’t be reading in the middle of the aisles.” He waved the book in his hands to indicate the source of his distraction.

“Not at all, it’s not your fault. I should’ve been more careful,” Nines told him. “Sorry for interrupting you and your…” Nines peered down at the book, and upon catching a glimpse of the title his eyes widened in surprise.

_ Anne the Balverine Slayer _ , the book displayed, sleek font etched into the dark cover. Nines’s gaze flicked back up to the man, now staring at him curiously. Nines narrowed his eyes and took the time to more thoroughly scrutinize the man before him.

Old enough that he couldn’t be a teenager anymore, though there’s no way he was pushing thirty. Mid twenties, probably. He was blond, lightly freckled, though not by the work of the sun; the man  _ screamed _ city boy, he’d probably never spent a workday outside in his life. His clothes were nice enough that he was probably well-off, but not obscenely so; either middle-class or humble enough not to flaunt his wealth, both good points. He had started to fidget under Nines’s gaze, and, more tellingly, he’d started  _ blushing _ .

And he was reading Rupert’s book.

As it turns out, Rupert the farmer’s son was actually a rather accomplished rookie novelist, or so he’d bashfully admitted to Nines while they were talking back at Brightwood Farm. He’d been writing ever since he could remember--his mother had taught him his letters, and his father would indulge his frequent requests for just about any book he could get his hands on--and some years ago, to his amazement, the first manuscript he’d finished and sent off to the city had been picked up and published in the Bowerstone newspaper.

His story soon built up a cult following, and what had started as that lone serialization had quickly ballooned into a contract and several book deals. He’d told Nines about the books he’d written.  _ Anne the Balverine Slayer _ was his most recent publication, the first in a planned series, and Rupert was very excited about it.

Nines nodded towards the book the man was clutching. “You a fan?” He asked, not really sure of how to go about what he was planning, but knowing that he couldn’t ignore what could only otherwise be a  _ frightfully _ preposterous coincidence.

The man had been growing increasingly unnerved by Nines’s stare as time went on, his blush fading, but at the mention of his book he perked right back up, offering Nines a beaming smile.

“Yes, absolutely!” He exclaimed, his smile lighting up his whole face. “I’ve been following this author ever since his first work was published in the  _ Bowerstone Bugle _ , and I’m positively  _ in love  _ with every single one of his pieces. He’s breaking completely new grounds in fiction! His first story, the one in the  _ Bugle _ , it was about a murder, right? Except it wasn’t just about the murder, it was about the sheriff--she’s the main character--uncovering who committed the crime! I mean, can you believe it?! That’s just--”

Nines listened for several minutes as this man gushed about the quality of Rupert’s writing and the ingenuity of his storytelling and the quality of his characterization and his penchant for nontraditional love interests. The more poetic he waxed, the more certain Nines grew that this  _ had _ to be fate or some shit, there was no other true explanation.

Convinced that he was making the right choice, Nines withdrew the picture of Rupert that Giles had pressed into his hands back at the farm. “An odd fellow by the name of Barnum took it,” he’d said, and Nines failed to suppress a fond smile. “Had to wait bloody ages for it, but it’s a good likeness, don’t you think? If you think you find someone who might be interested, just show her the picture, and, well, let things take their course.”

Nines was perhaps taking liberties by offering the photo to a  _ he _ , but he could hardly care when he knew he was doing the right thing, a good thing. He smoothed out the image before turning it around to show the other man.

“Would you be interested in getting to know this man? I could introduce you.” The stranger leaned in towards the picture, squinting to try and focus his eyes on the tiny image, and Nines could immediately register the moment the man took in what he was seeing.

The poor bastard blushed straight up to the roots of his hair.

“Oh, that’s, um, he’s, um, he’s very,” He stuttered, growing redder by the second. Nines started to worry for his health. A hand twitched towards the photograph, as if he had to resist the urge to grab it and pull it closer. Nines raised an eyebrow at the spectacle unfolding before him.

“That man is  _ extremely _ \--” The man gasped breathlessly, before seeming to catch himself and he cleared his throat. “I mean, um. An introduction? Yes. I would like that. Very much. Are you--can you really introduce us? You weren’t kidding about that, were you?” He looked very concerned then, gazing up at Nines imploringly, like a little blond puppy.

“I can,” Nines said, serious as the grave. This had gone  _ far _ easier than he had expected it to. He hadn’t even needed to out Rupert’s secret author identity.

That’s going to be a fun surprise in the coming months, Nines bet. Score one for the Hero of Bowerstone.

“Wonderful,” the man exhaled dreamily. Nines frowned. He really should ask this guy’s name if he’s going to be setting him up with Rupert.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“Oh!” The man straightened, startled. “Adrian, my name is Adrian,” Adrian said, and offered a hand out for Nines to shake. Nines did, careful to to squeeze or jostle his arm too hard. “Nines,” He replied.

“Nines? My, how unique, very charming. Oh, but--is that your name? Or is it--” Adrian glanced down at the picture and back up again at Nines.

“It’s mine,” Nines assured him. “This is Rupert,” he motioned to the photo.

Nines could swear Adrian’s eyes went heart-shaped. “Rupert,” he sighed, lovelorn as he was drawn in by Rupert’s image once again.

“So,” Nines began, a little awkwardly as Adrian’s attention remained fixed to the photograph, “he lives on Brightwood Farm, which is a ways away, but he comes into the city at least twice a month. You should be able to find him in the building behind this one next Friday at one. He has business there, but it shouldn’t take long, and you’ll have the whole day to talk afterwards.”

Adrian pulled back to blink at him, surprised. “Why--thank you, thank you very much. The building behind this one, you said?”

Nines nodded. That was the publishing house, conveniently situated right next to the bookstore. Hopefully Adrian didn’t know that, or the whole author thing might be out of the bag pretty soon. Nines thought it might be best to keep that under wraps for now, he didn’t want to spill any secrets that weren’t his to tell.

“This Friday at one, understood. You--you won’t be coming with me? Won’t he be confused if some stranger asks for him out of nowhere?”

In a spur of the moment decision, Nines placed the picture in Adian’s hand. Giles hadn’t said anything about wanting it back, so hopefully he wouldn’t mind. Adrian’s fingers curled around it, and he looked between it and Nines, uncomprehending.

“I’ve got a lot to do, so I can’t promise to be there, but if you show him this he’ll know you’re a friend. Just explain how you got the photo, and he’ll understand.” And hopefully not bomb your date miserably with nerves once he realizes he’s been spectacularly wingmanned, Nines didn’t say.

“Oh, I see,” Adrian replied, nodding his agreement.

Adrian scuffed his feet on the wooden floor, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. “This is… Thank you for this,” he said softly. He looked up into Nines’s eyes, something in them begging him to understand words he wasn’t saying. “Thank you so much.”

Nines smiled gently. He moved forward to pat Adrian on the shoulder, offering what he hoped to be a comforting weight. An accepting weight. “It’s no trouble at all,” he said, lightly.

Adrian returned his smile gratefully, his eyes a little wet at the edges but his expression bright and hopeful. Nines clapped him on the shoulder once more, mindful of the force he put into it, and moved on down the aisle, ready to exit the stacks.

“Have fun!” He called behind him. “I’ll be sure to have Rupert tell me how it goes!”

Nines was almost out of the shop by now, but he could almost feel the blinding force of Adian’s grin. “I will!,” Adrian called out from behind a shelf. “And thank you again!”

Nines left Fiction Burns with a happy slant to his lips.

* * *

With the bookstore behind him, Nines set his sights on some other shops he’d needed to stop by to stock up on some essentials before the day was done.

He’d emerged from Lady Fairfax’s tomb at dawn, and even after the whole fiasco with Victor ( _ don’t think about it _ \--) it was still only early afternoon. He wouldn’t be able to dawdle, but it was more than enough time to find everything he needed.

Nines crossed the square to the blacksmith’s first, intent on finding a ranged weapon better to his liking. He’d keep his pistol, but he needed the option of something different. The blacksmith indulged him and showed him his entire stock; shotguns and crossbows and rifles and more. Nines tried out each of them, weighing them in his hands, positioning them to see how they were meant to be fired. He found he liked the blunderbuss the best; shorter range, but powerful and scattershot, and with a heft that felt comfortable in Nines’s arms. He bought it with his thanks to the blacksmith.

Back in the square, Nines checked his pack to see what perishables needed replenishing. He’d been stocking up on potions lately, so he shouldn’t need more of those quite yet, but he was running low on… Yes, he had to get food for the road, a new waterskin, and some new augments for his weapons.

Nines spent the day in Bowerstone Market, gathering his supplies, triple checking that he had everything he would need, and before he knew it the sun was dipping behind the buildings, casting the town square in a warm evening glow. He was finally done with his shopping, and he could still afford a night at The Cow and Corset. Thinking that it’d been a while since he’d had a warm bed to sleep in, Nines made for the tavern intent on booking himself a room.

The bar was lively as always, the later hours giving way to the evening crowd. Nines wove through tables and excitable patrons as he made his way to the innkeep, who took his gold without fuss and told him he had his pick of the beds still available. Nines offered his thanks and forged a path back through the crowds, dodging flying elbows and wayward tankards, to the stairwell and then the upper floors.

The rooms on the first landing were all full, so he kept moving towards the second floor. He spotted an empty bed in the third room he came across, and wasted no time in claiming it for himself. Nines found that leaving his axe on the bed tended to discourage any disturbances, so he tossed it over before commencing the task that was unloading his weapons, removing his armor, and stowing his equipment where a drunken townsperson wouldn’t trip over it in the night when (at least) one inevitably stumbles into his room.

Nines had learned he had to work around the people of Albion.

Once he’d gotten properly settled in, Nines wondered if he might sit out on the balcony for a bit before he called it a day, maybe find a game master who could deal him some Fortune’s Tower. It was a nice night; calm, warm, but not humid. The sky was clear, the stars shining, and Nines had spent so many years unable to gaze at it in its entirety; the Spire, hemming him in on all sides, would only let in the tiniest circle of the heavens at a time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken in the open starry sky.

His mind made up, Nines left his room and set a course for the balcony. He was just passing the last room on the floor when he heard a shrill voice exclaim from within.

“You there!,” it said.

Nines turned. The owner of the voice was… Well. Nines had never seen a stranger hairdo in his life. He hoped to Avo he was keeping a straight face.

The woman who had called out to him kept speaking, seemingly unconcerned, so he assumed he managed it. “Just the kind of fellow I was hoping to run into.”

Nines could swear he’d never met this woman, but something about her struck him as familiar. He dug around in his memories, trying to suss out the cause, as she continued.

“It’s adventurers like you who keep filling my sons’ heads with fancy ideas. It’s about time you helped us poor mothers out.”

Mothers. Sons. Adventurers. Fancy ideas. It all came together in Nines’s head, and then it clicked.

Max and Sam, the dynamic duo of troublemakers that were perpetually driving their mother, and just about every other citizen of Albion besides, up the wall with their antics, had gotten into trouble yet again. Nines thought that he had told them off convincingly enough last time, after their little stint in Bowerstone Cemetery all those years ago--three hundred hollow men, that had put his shoulder out for a  _ week _ \--but, now that he thought about it, Nines didn’t have his axe at the time, did he. Maybe when he hunts the idiots down this time they’ll be more motivated to listen.

This woman, Mrs. Spade, evidently the mother of Max and Sam Spade, wannabe adventurers and prodigious chaosmongers, told Nines that the two of them had apparently found a way into  _ Wraithmarsh _ , of all the fucking places. Though livid, Mrs. Spade was obviously quite worried for her sons’ safety, and he promised her that he would find them and bring them back to her.

Luckily, the note they’d left their mother was dated only two days ago, so Nines wouldn’t have to head out until tomorrow. Markus had finally worked the kinks out of his cullis gate, so Nines should be able to make the journey from Brightwood Tower to the Wraithmarsh gate before the Terrible Twosome even got there. He aimed to assure Mrs. Spade of this, but she waved him off, unconcerned.

“I trust that you know what you’re doing, Hero. It’s my idiot sons I worry about. Please, just bring them home.”

Nines nodded his agreement, and she sent him off.

He stopped by the second floor balcony, intending to catch that glimpse of the stars. He looked up, and frowned. Nines couldn’t see as much as he’d like; his view was crowded by the many buildings of Bowerstone.

He hefted himself onto the balcony railing and climbed up onto the tavern’s roof. He stretched out on the tile, languid. The starry night sky stretched open before him, endless and perfect.

Nines spent the night on that roof. It was the best night’s sleep he’d had in a long time.

* * *

Nines had, perhaps, miscalculated how long it would take for Max and Sam to make it to Wraithmarsh. He had woken at the first rays of sunlight over the horizon, descended back into the building and gathered his things from his room before heading out immediately--he even took a carriage to Brightwood, though he sat on its roof the whole way, visibly unnerving the coachman.

All that, no further time delayed, and yet, somehow, on the other side of the cullis gate Nines was following two sets of incredibly distinct bootprints across the eerie marshes. He would worry it was some sort of trap were it not for the fact that this was, one hundred percent, absolutely the kind of thing that Max and Sam would not think to notice or cover up.

Not like there are deadly monsters intent on eating them lurking in the depths of these swaps. No, siree.

Nines followed their tracks to the old well in what was once the center of Oakvale. Long since dried up, it looked big enough to climb down into, and indeed, someone had left a ladder propped up against it. Considering the wood hadn’t long since rotted away, it must’ve been courtesy of Max and Sam.

Nines descended into the well after his quarry.

It wasn’t hard to locate the brothers. Nines found that the well was connected to a small cave system, and he followed the sound of shrill screaming and blades clanging through the narrow tunnels until he came across Max and Sam in the midst of being accosted by hollow men. Miraculously, neither of them looked any the worse for wear.

Nines lifted his axe and got to work. In minutes, the hollow men were reduced to nothing more than broken bones and scattered rags littering the cave floor.

When the last one fell, Nines made sure to resecure his weapon before he rounded on them. He planted his feet, crossed his arms over his chest, summoned the fiercest glower he could muster, and waited to see who’d crack.

It was Max. “Thank you!” Max squeaked nervously. “For the, um, you know, rescuing. Very nice work, that… Hey, don’t we know you? You looked awfully familiar killing hollow men. Well, not that that’s terribly important right at the moment--say, do you think you could do us one teensy, tiny favor?”

That vein pulsed angrily in Nines’s temple as Max and Sam explained to him that, of course, getting almost murdered by hollow men wasn’t the worst of their problems. When it came to these two, it wasn’t a true incident until at least a half dozen unsuspecting bystanders had gotten caught up in their mess.

No, upon stumbling into this cave, in Wraithmarsh, which they had decided to explore for  _ gods _ knew why, they had unleashed a banshee. Of all the fucking things.

Nines had gotten better at slaying the things, since that first time. Learned some of the tricks. It was easier to endure the whisperings, knowing that it was just monstrous magic designed to get into his head, not a lone and terrible entity that had somehow unearthed all his secrets.

It didn’t make facing them any more enjoyable.

The brothers seemed to think that the banshee was headed for Bloodstone, so Nines prepared himself for a long sprint. He made sure to give Max and Sam very strict, very clear instructions to leave the marsh the way they came, and a very explicit description of what he would do to them if they didn’t.

They cowered, but nodded vigorously in agreement. It was as good as Nines was going to get, so he left them to make their way back and set off as fast as he could to Bloodstone.

Now that he knew the way, it took him an hour of travel with not a moment to rest as he tore through the marshes, leaving balverines, hollow men, and lesser banshees snarling after him in his wake. The troll was still recovering from their last bout, thank the Light, so Nines was able to make it into Bloodstone without delay.

He arrived at a scene of absolute chaos. The banshee was tearing up the port; she blew ships out of the harbor, ravaged the stalls and buildings along the waterfront, and tore into anyone or anything that got too close to her. The mist she summoned had driven most of the townspeople indoors, thankfully, but they wouldn’t be safe there for much longer if someone didn’t stop her from moving further into the city.

Nines drew his axe and charged the waterfront.

The battle was long and difficult, especially on the wrong end of an hour long sprint. It was a queen banshee that Max and Sam had unleashed, bigger and more powerful than her sisters, which made her all the more impossible to defeat. But Nines fought with every ounce of strength he had, and eventually, he emerged victorious.

He collapsed to his knees, gasping, as the banshee’s body, now corporeal, fell to the dock. The mist enshrouding the city dissipated, and Nines came back to awareness to the roaring cheers of the townspeople, celebrating his success.

Someone came up to check if he was alright, and he waved them off; he wouldn’t need long to recover. Perhaps the innkeeper at The Leper’s Arms would let him have a free room so he could sleep the exhaustion off before he returned to make sure Max and Sam had made it to Bowerstone. It was worth a shot.

But first, Nines thought, there was someone he needed to check in with. He took his axe in hand and brought the blade down on the banshee queen’s throat, severing the head in one clean strike.

* * *

Nines, covered in sweat, mystery marsh, and banshee viscera, presented the head to Gavin Reed, dropping it rather unceremoniously before him. The Thief sputtered as it thunked on top of the many maps and cargo manifests spread out atop a large table, oozing a sticky black substance onto his papers.

For a moment, he simply stood in stunned silence.

“The--the banshee,” Gavin finally began, his brain evidently restarting. “At the waterfront this morning. That was you?  _ Fuck _ , of course it was you. We couldn’t even get down there, the mists were so bad.”

Gavin sighed, and seemed to square his shoulders. He took a deep breath, crossing his arms over his chest, before he started, “Alright, fine, I suppose this is enough to--”

“I’ve still got some business to attend to, so I’m afraid I can’t stay,” Nines interrupted.

Gavin reeled, even stumbling backward a bit as if physically struck. He said nothing for several seconds. “Uh. I’m sorry,  _ what _ ?”

“Banshees to kill, babies to save from bandits, you know. A Hero’s work is never done.” Nines smirked, playfully. “It was good to see you, Gavin.”

And with that, Nines turned on his heel and left the Lionhead mansion, leaving Captain Gavin Reed sputtering indignantly in his wake at the abrupt dismissal.

Nines passed one of Gavin’s crewmen on his way out the door. The man turned to stare at him as he walked by, contemplative.

“Hey, Boss,” Nines heard as he stepped out into the sunshine, “was that the Sparrow?”

* * *

Nines took a ship from the Bloodstone docks, back up and running in a matter of hours thanks to his swift response to the crisis, over to Westcliff on his journey back to Bowerstone. He should have more than enough time to spare getting there; he sincerely doubted that Max and Sam were all that eager to confront their mother’s wrath, no matter how afraid they were of Nines’s. They’d be home within the week, but unlikely any sooner.

Nines spent a few days clearing a new path through the road to Westcliff and the Bandit Coast, casually slicing through all that stood in his way. It was a pretty good workout. That fight with the banshee queen had made him suspect his years in the Spire had dulled his abilities somewhat, and he was glad to prove to himself that such was not the case.

He picked up the pace when he reached Brightwood and made it into Bowerstone on the fourth day.

Nines had timed his arrival just right, and found Max and Sam exactly where he thought they’d be--getting chewed out by their mother outside of her room at The Cow and Corset.

She must’ve been at it for quite some time, the brothers looking as cowed as they did exhausted. Nines picked up the tail end of Mrs. Spade’s lecture as he approached.

“A lifetime of worry I’ve had because of you two!” she put a hand to her forehead to massage her no doubt piercing headache. When Nines drew close enough for her to hear his footsteps, she looked back up, and her expression soothed to one of relief and gratitude.

“Ah, it’s you, Sparrow. Thank you so much for bringing my boys home.” Mrs. Spade mustered a weary smile. “They won’t tell me what happened. Did they cause any trouble?”

Over their mother’s shoulder, Max and Sam made some very frantic shushing motions in Nines’s direction. Sam started drawing his hand across his throat so enthusiastically that Nines worried he might bang it on a nearby table.

Mrs. Spade, heedless of her sons’ antics not three feet behind her, simply stared at Nines expectantly, patiently waiting for his response. Evidently, she didn’t know about the banshee. Whether Max and Sam had to spend another hour, at minimum, getting lambasted for their thoughtless actions was entirely up to Nines.

Nines looked from Mrs. Spade back to her sons, who had devolved to begging silently for his silence, their attempt at pitifulness very much closer to nauseousness, and outing them for the careless nitwits they were was incredibly tempting.

But, Nines thought as his gaze flicked back to Mrs. Spade, noting the bone-deep tiredness hiding in her eyes and the cavernous lines etched into her face by long years of worrying after her good-for-nothing sons, telling her the whole story when the problem had already been dealt with and no one ended up any the worse for wear would only cause a terrified mother yet more undue anxiety.

Perhaps, just this once, Nines could give Max and Sam a free pass.

“No,” Nines told Mrs. Spade, his tone even. “No trouble this time, surprisingly. I found them in Wraithmarsh, as you suggested, and sent them on home.”

Max and Sam visibly sagged with relief. Max covered his mouth with his hand; Nines thought he might have actually been sobbing.

More discerning than Nines anticipated, Mrs. Spade narrowed her eyes. “There’s something you’re not telling me,” she said, and then sighed. “But my boys are safe and I didn’t have to chase after them through a swamp, that’s the main thing.”

Cautiously, Nines nodded. Mrs. Spade thanked him again, and issued one more scathing command to her sons before stalking off towards the stairs. Max and Sam tripped over themselves in their haste to follow after her. One of them tried to fling himself at Nines in an overzealous display of gratitude, and he quickly sidestepped to avoid the assault. After what these two had put him through, Nines wasn’t in a hugging sort of mood.

He glared at them instead, moving his right hand to grasp at the handle of his axe menacingly, and the two of them cowered skittishly but offered him bright grins as they gave up on trying to express their thanks in unlikely to be well received actions and instead raced after their mother, who was likely to start her scolding all over again if the she reached the entrance to the tavern only to turn and find her sons were less than a step behind her.

From the upstairs railing, Nines watched them catch up with Mrs. Spade and exit the tavern without further incident, a trend which would hopefully keep up for at least another month. Nines could only take so much.

Once they were gone, Nines leaned back on his heels, and considered. Unless anything new had popped up in the meantime, this was the last issue there was to be taken care of. With the Temple of Shadows gone and a whole three Heroes put to work throughout the land, Albion seemed to finally be at some sort of peace, flimsy as it may be with Elijah still lurking in the background.

Truly, Nines had done absolutely everything there was to be done. His exploits were now legendary. Bloodstone  _ had _ to know who he was now, Gavin and his motley crew included.

Nines smirked. Let’s see the Hero of Skill--let’s see  _ Gavin Reed _ \--deny him now.

* * *

Nines made it back to Bloodstone a few days later. He’d kept his ear to the ground, on the lookout for any new incidents, but there was absolutely nothing. Peace and tranquility was boasted all throughout the land. It kept his spirits up.

Nines was walking up the hillside on his way to the Lionhead mansion when, to his dawning dismay, he couldn’t stop himself from overhearing an inexcusably suspicious conversation that floated down from an open balcony attached to an otherwise nondescript residence.

“We must continue our efforts regardless, Sister Beverly,” a voice intoned, just a few pitches too high.

“But they seem so fruitless at times, Brother Toby,” another voice responded  _ very _ unnaturally; Sister Beverly’s, Nines guessed.

“We will transform this lawless town,” Brother Toby replied. “All it takes is a little faith.”

“We could use some help, too,” Sister Beverly added very rigidly. Was she reading from a script or something?

“You speak the truth, Sister. Indeed, you do. It is clear that we must cleanse this town of the infamous Silver Serpent.” If they were practicing for a play, Brother Toby was much more skillful at delivering his lines, that was for sure.

“But how?” Sister Beverly was clearly getting into it, and yet it only made her speech more broken and her voice more monotone. “They’re so powerful. And they’ve stolen so many holy pieces from our temple.”

“I know, I know!” Brother Toby cried passionately. “And yet we have to find a way.”

Sister Beverly sighed so exaggeratedly Nines worried for the state of her ribs. “I don’t know, sometimes I think we’ll never bring peace to this terrible city.”

Nines frowned. Bloodstone was often called lawless, but from what he understood, Gavin’s crew might as well have been the law around here. He certainly wouldn’t let blatant theft propagate in his city. Were they suggesting the Hero of Skill couldn’t establish control over his home turf?

Nines was offended on Gavin’s behalf.

Brother Toby spoke up again. “With courage, persistence, and faith, we will do it. We will wash away all evil from this cesspool.”

Sister Beverly decided to ratchet the tragic element up several notches, moaning her next words so mournfully Nines almost couldn’t make them out. “It’s a shame that yodelling didn’t succeed in changing the hearts of the people in this city, Brother Toby.”

Nines frowned. Yodelling--hadn’t Barnum once mentioned to him something about Yodelling?

“We must adapt our methods if we are to save the world, Sister Beverly,” Brother Toby recited gravely.

Save the--well, that escalated quickly. When did this conversation go from saving Bloodstone to saving the world? Explorers had yet to even fully map the world. Any effort to save it was absolutely too ambitious, if you asked Nines.

The conversation seemed to stop there, and Nines found himself paralyzed with indecision. He  _ really  _ wanted to see Gavin. He’d been running on fumes before the banshee incident, so he’d decided to stop by for a quick visit--to refill his reserves, so to speak--but every moment since he left again has, for some reason Nines did not fully understand and could not explain, been absolute torture. All he could think about since stepping back out of that mansion was the next time he’d be able to walk right back in again.

He couldn’t really say he  _ missed  _ Gavin--Nines hardly knew him, there wasn’t enough of him to miss--but by the Light, did Nines  _ want _ to know him. Every second wasted out here, out in the world doing anything but Heroing, was a second Nines mourned that he wasn’t talking to Gavin Reed, looking at him, learning about him.

Nines had gotten  _ so close _ to that goal he’d been working towards entirely in secret, and now it was being forestalled  _ yet again _ by the undeniably suspicious activity he’d been confronted with.

Nines heaved out a great sigh. He knew there was no way he could let something so suspect go uninvestigated in Gavin’s hometown. On the very, exceedingly,  _ incredibly tiny _ slim chance that… whatever this was turned out to be dangerous or insurgent or somehow threatening, he would have to deal with it before it could end up endangering any citizens.

Or his chances with Gavin.

Nines squared his shoulders and marched into the offending household like a soldier heading off to war.

* * *

He found ‘Sister Beverly’ and ‘Brother Toby’ on the second floor, seemingly not disturbed in the least that a huge, rather intimidating stranger had seen fit to barge into their place of residence entirely unannounced. Instead, Brother Toby turned to greet him coolly.

“Welcome, friend. You are not a native Bloodstoner, are you?”

...Was that actually the term? Please tell Nines that wasn’t actually the term.

“And yet, you have no doubt noticed what a corrupt and sinful place it is.” Brother Toby nodded to himself, incredibly satisfied by his own assessment.

“I am Toby, of T.O.B.Y., the Temple of Benevolent Yokels. I am on a mission to turn this town into as peaceful and rustic a land as Bowerstone or Oakfield.”

Nines grimaced.

“Perhaps you feel at home in this lair of wickedness,” a vein pulsed in Nines’s temple, “but helping the Temple could bring you great rewards.”

Oh, not this again. Nines squeezed his eyes shut, holding in a tired sigh. He knew, he  _ knew _ there was only one way forward.

One had to work  _ around _ the people of Albion.

By the Light, Nines wished that _ just once _ that didn’t mean going along with their crazy schemes.

Eyes still shut tight as if that would shield him from the suffering that was yet to come, Nines nodded his acquiescence.

“Wonderful!” Toby exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. “I will tell you of the grave conspiracy that has sunk Bloodstone into the anarchic pit it finds itself in today.” Wait for it--

“But not before you recover the first of the holy pieces needed for the Rite of Cleansing: it is the Mutton of Eternal Hope.”

And there it was. Wait--‘Mutton of--’

He had to be kidding.

Unfortunately, so, incredibly unfortunately, Toby was not, in fact, kidding. Nines was tasked with…

Well, as far as Nines could parse, he’d been tasked with stealing a very delicious-smelling haunch of mutton from some poor bastard that lived along the waterfront.

Nines, of course did the sensible thing.

The man who opened the door to the house in question did so very suspiciously, with firearm in hand and no doubt a number of smaller weapons concealed elsewhere on his person. Nines knew he must make quite the picture, face pinched, arms crossed, expression thunderous, unable to reign it all in despite his conscious but futile efforts to appear less intimidating.

“I need the juiciest piece of mutton you’ve got,” Nines told the man. “Please, just--” Nines exhaled raggedly, his expression tightening further, “just hand it over and don’t ask any questions.”

The man stood in the doorway for a few seconds more, understandably appalled, but blessedly his cautious nature eventually won out, and when he finally processed what Nines was asking of him he obeyed with little delay.

He handed Nines the meat from as safe a distance as he could manage, eyes still wary and more than a little spiteful, and Nines rooted around his coin pouch for what was hopefully enough gold to cover what such a quality cut would cost. The man took it without complaint, and the angry glare receded a bit from his gaze.

Nines, loathful, took the mutton back to Toby. The man snatched it away as soon as he was within grabbing distance, and Nines made no attempt to conceal his look of disdain. Oblivious, Toby applauded his success, and proceeded to feed him some bull about an absolutely fake organization called the ‘Silver Serpent,’ but told him nothing more than Nines had already learned by listening in on his earlier conversation with Sister Beverly before he ordered him to procure another ‘holy ritual item’ that the Temple was in  _ dire _ need of.

This time it was the ‘Wine of Forgiveness.’ Toby really hadn’t put that much effort into these names. Or maybe simpler was somehow better?

Nines would never understand the people of Albion.

Nines repeated the process with the individual at the second household--a woman this time, who just about shot him on sight before he could explain that no, he  _ wasn’t _ there to rob her, he was simply interested in purchasing the most expensive bottle of wine she had on hand.

She glared at him unflinchingly, but the people of Bloodstone had instincts that were frankly unparalleled by the rest of the world, and she too thought better than to deny his request. She handed him the wine and demanded what Nines was sure had to be at least twice the normal asking price for such a bottle, but he handed her the gold without complaint. Who needs new weapons anyway.

Nines took the wine back to Toby. His third quest was for the ‘Sacred Pie of Kindness.’ Absolutely stellar. At least he was apparently making progress; they’d graduated to ‘sacred’ foods.

The third house was blessedly,  _ blessedly _ empty. Nines had been worried that the third time, instead of the charm, would be the bullet through his chest.

He’d probably heal, but gunshot wounds were never pleasant.

Nines walked through the open door, found the pie in a cupboard by the stove, and put a bundle of coins in its place.

The pie was not the end of it, and Nines cursed under his breath. “It has come to my attention that certain poor people are forced to walk the streets, selling their flesh in a most sinful way. Bring me one such lost soul that I may show her the error of her ways.”

Nines cast his eyes heavenward. A hooker. All this running all over town like a chicken with its head cut off, and now Toby wanted Nines to get him a  _ hooker _ . Would this torture never  _ end _ .

Fine. At least a hooker wouldn’t try to shoot him, Nines thought.

Bloodstone being that kind of town, Nines didn’t have to look far to find one. He went down a couple streets, winding closer to the waterfront where the alleys got narrower, and spotted a woman at work on a corner, blowing kisses and smiling flirtatiously at the passerby. Nines approached her, and that smile bloomed.

“Hello, handsome,” she cooed at him coyly. “Think you might be in the mood for a little company tonight?”

She was rather beautiful and no doubt skilled, but alas, Nines’s heart had set itself on another. Nonetheless, he offered her a friendly smile. “Not me, I’m afraid. But would you be willing to entertain another client for the night?”

She drew back from him a little, but the warmth didn’t vanish completely from her gaze. “I won’t go anywhere alone,” she told him, “Mrs. Grady don’t let us do that no more. She struck a deal with that pirate captain--anyone gets caught messin’ with one o’ her girls, they gotta deal with his crew.”

Metal glinted in the corner of Nines’s vision, and he spotted a man slowly drawing a dagger from its sheath at the other end of the alley, expression apprehensive and menacing. Nines, alarmed, looked back at the woman to warn her, but she seemed less than concerned.

_ “I won’t go anywhere alone,” _ she’d said. Ah. It appeared that Gavin’s crew might have been more than it appeared.

“Your bodyguard can come with you,” he offered carefully. The woman stiffened a bit at his response, but moreso in surprise than in fear. After a moment, she loosened up again, and her easy smile returned. She turned to beckon the man at the end of the alley over to them. “Jacob! It’s alright, this nice man just wants to direct me to a client. Would you be kind enough to escort me?”

She looped her arm through Jacob’s and beamed up at him. Even among the darkness the evening shadows cast them in, Nines could see the man blush up to the roots of his hair.

Adorable.

Nines led the woman and her bodyguard back up the streets to Toby’s place, making sure he didn’t seem any more suspicious than his first impression had made him out to be. He felt bad for scaring her, short-lived as it may have been.

When they arrived in front of the house, Nines turned to address the woman; Delia, she’d introduced herself as.

“If he does anything, and I mean  _ anything _ , even remotely out of bounds, just say the word. Please, don’t hesitate. I am  _ itching _ for any excuse to throw him out on his ass.”

Delia laughed, still leaning into Jacob’s side. He gazed at her, positively smitten. “Aww, thank you, sugar, I’ll keep that in mind. But I’ve gotta warn you, I already promised Jakey here that if anybody ever tries anything with me, he gets first crack at ‘em.”

She smiled at Jacob, and his eyes melted into besotted little heart shapes. At the same time, his free hand went to ghost over his dagger, reassuring him of its weight and alerting Nines to the sincerity of that promise.

Nines felt his lips curl at the corners. No matter what kind of snake Toby turned out to be, he was confident that between the two of them, should the need arise, they could cut its head off without issue.

Jacob stayed outside--as had been the case earlier with Nines, the women liked to keep the existence of their bodyguards as a sort of ace in the hole, close enough to intervene in times of trouble but otherwise far enough so as not to interfere--while Nines led Delia inside.

Toby spotted them as they came in. “Oh yes, very good, very good. This poor woman needs my full attention.” He nodded vigorously to himself, as Nines had learned he was wont to do. “Now, if you will just leave us alone. I will call you when you’re needed again.”

Toby led Delia up the stairs with a hand on her back--bless her, she was truly a professional, already leaning into his touch and running a finger teasingly up his arm, the brave soul--and that should leave Toby distracted for at least an hour.

Well, that was probably giving him too much credit. Maybe half an hour.

Nines had better hurry.

He made haste back out the door, not eager to catch wind of the sound of moaning when it started, exaggerated or otherwise, and passed Jacob leaning against the wall next to the front door, dancing his blade across his hand. He grinned affably at Nines as he passed, and Nines paused for a second, but did his best to offer one of his own in kind.

They were certainly a strange couple, Delia and her bodyguard, but throw Nines to the Shadows if he’d ever seen a cuter one.

* * *

It felt like he’d spent hours asking around about Toby by the time he’d finally found someone willing to talk to him.

“So, you’re Toby’s latest patsy are you?” The man laughed, knocking back a swig from a hip flask.

“That swine always gets an outsider to do his dirty business using some scam. What was it this time, that temple thing again?” He chuckled wryly. “I bet he reeled you in by talking to some fake brother or sister about how they’d clean up this town.” He let out another sharp bark of laughter.

“You ask me, you ought to get rid of that swindler. Scare him out of town or cut his head off. I don’t care. Plenty of people ‘round here’ll thank you for it. And you don’ gotta worry about the Lionhead boys--they just ‘bout fed up with him, too. You’d be doin’ ‘em a favor, you would.”

With those words of wisdom, the man left Nines and staggered on down the street, whistling merrily on the breeze.

Well, there’s the excuse he was looking for, and the reassurance that he wouldn’t be stepping on any toes.

A feral grin took over Nines’s face.

Oh, this was going to be  _ so _ much fun.

* * *

He stalked straight back to Toby’s place. The door was locked, but Jacob was still out there, dutifully flipping his dagger over his fingers. Delia must’ve still been there, then. Nines would have to be a little careful.

Nines knocked firmly. He got no response, so he tried again, harder.

“What?!” Toby shouted on the other side of the door. “Go away. I’m busy!”

Nines started jiggling the door handle.

“I won’t ask you again. Get lost!”

Nines did not get lost. He pulled at the handle more forcefully.

“Look, I said--” Toby began angrily, but changed his tune when he opened the door and saw Nines. “Oh, it’s you. Uh. I’m not quite finished here. Why don’t you go and find, um, uh, let me see… what else do I want?”

Toby seemed to seriously ponder this for a bit, his gaze floating upwards and a hand coming to rest on his chin. He moved back to let Nines inside.

Slowly, Nines stalked forwards. He moved a hand towards the handle of his axe, still strapped to his back. his other hand twitched with an incomplete Will spell, the sparks of a flimsy but workable Shock dancing across his fingertips.

Toby snapped out of his contemplations on Nines’s third step forward. The second he took it all in, Toby’s face drained of all color.

Nines’s grin was nothing but teeth.

Nines took another step forward, and Toby stumbled backward. “Please--don’t kill me! I’ll leave! Leave forever!”

Toby screamed and took off running, right past Nines and out the door. Nines could hear him going down the hillside, his shrill cries of terror fading into the distance as he fled.

Nines couldn’t help but frown. That was far easier than he expected it to be. He didn’t really get to savor the experience.

He was distracted from his disappointment when he heard thumping on the stairs. It was Delia, bleary-eyed, coming down to see if everything was alright. Nines offered her a reassuring smile, and she responded in kind.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Oh, ‘m fine,” she waved him away, “Jacob wouldn’t let nothin’ happen to me, I told ya. ‘S that man gone now? Did’ya get him?”

Nines nodded, and Delia snorted. “And good riddance. Seriously, this day ‘n age, what kinda man don’t know how to give proper head?”

Nines couldn’t hold in his laughter.

* * *

Jacob popped his head in to see if all was well, what with the owner of the house having run screaming not five minutes prior, and Nines and Delia assured him that the situation was under control. He and Nines waited downstairs as Delia redressed on the upper floor.

She returned to the railing some minutes later, having gathered her things, and called down to them.

“Oh, Jakey,” she cooed, “There’s a whole other bed up there, you know, big ‘n clean ‘n everything. It’d be a waste to just leave it like that, don’t you think?”

She stretched her arms over the railing playfully, reaching towards him. “Wanna join me for a bit, see if we can’t break it in?”

Nines held his breath, wholly taken in by this new and unexpected development. He turned quickly to observe Jacob’s reaction.

At Delia’s offer, Jacob froze in his seat, turned red as a tomato, shot up and bolted for the door, leaving nothing but shifted air in his wake. From her perch against the railing, Delia sighed, morose.

Nines turned back to her, concern and bewilderment overtaking him. Sure, he’d known the two of them for less than a day, but that reaction was entirely unexpected. He just--

“That’s the fourth time now,” she mumbled to herself. Nines straightened up in his seat, even more confused. The fourth--this had happened  _ before _ ?

“What?” Nines garbled out.

Delia sighed again, clearly resigned, and started to trudge slowly down the stairs, despondent. “This is the fourth time he’s run off on me. He won’t be far, he never is, he wouldn’t leave me alone like that, but--I just don’t know why he says no!”

She had reached the bottom of the stairs, and threw her hands up, exasperated. “I thought he just might not like me, or not want me like that, okay. But--he smiles at me! And lets me touch him wherever I want, and kisses my cheek, and--Mrs. Grady says he’s  _ stupid _ over me, and Mrs. Grady’s a  _ very _ smart woman.”

Nines nodded in wholehearted agreement. That man was, as they say, clearly ass over teakettle. Delia moved from the bottom of the stairs to the living room, where she started pacing back and forth over the floorboards.

“And so I think--maybe he jus’ don’ want sex, or maybe not sex with me. Which is fine! I could do that! But why don’ he jus’ say so?!? I asked him, once, all secret-like, and I could tell he was confused but he said he likes it, with men and women and plenty o’ other people besides, so I know  _ that’s _ not the problem. And all o’ his other crew boys, the ones that bunk with him in the clubhouse and on the ship, they all say he, he--”

Now Delia was the one to blush up to the roots of her hair. Nines’s eyebrows rose.

“They say he-- _ dreams _ about me. Good dreams, that make him happy in the mornin’,” she added, as if that needed clarification, Nines thought with a fond smirk. “Except-- _ I _ wanna be the one to make him happy in the mornin’,” she mumbled, slowing to a standstill across from Nines. She turned to him with tear-filled eyes.

“ _ I _ wanna be the one to make him feel good and fall asleep next to him and be there in the mornin’ when he wakes up ‘n--” she sniffed, some tears brimmed over, and Nines felt his heart break at the sight just a little.

“ _ I _ wanna do all that. Not some  _ dream _ me. But if he really wants me--if he really lo--likes me, then  _ why _ ,” her voice cracked as she all but wailed the words, “why does he keep saying no?”

The dam broke in full force, and Delia succumbed to her tears. She sobbed wretchedly, and Nines stood up hastily, awkwardly patting her shoulder, hoping that Jacob wasn’t yet close enough to hear what was going on and gut Nines for what was going down.

“Have you, um,” Nines offered, trying to think, “have you actually told him how you feel about him?”

Delia seemed to think about it for a minute, her sobs subsiding some as she considered.

“Well, I--no, but I thought it was obvious. I wouldn’t just offer up these goods for free, you know,” she told Nines, waving a hand at her body. “That’s something special. To me, at least. Do you think--do you think he just don’ understand? That I love ‘im?”

She looked up at Nines, hope blossoming behind her eyes, and something soft unfurled in Nines’s chest.

“Yeah,” he responded, “I think that might be the problem.”

Delia wiped her lingering tears away and offered him a shaky but genuine smile. “You do? Oh, good, that’s--so, how should I tell him? Or, wait,”

She stepped back from Nines and rooted around under her shirt for something tucked against her chest. She finally found it and gasped, triumphant, before pulling it out and showing it to Nines.

It was a set of rings, a simple silver color, clearly worn but well cared for, looped onto a simple cord tied loosely around her neck. “They were my gramma’s,” Delia told him. “She ‘n grampa said that I should give one o’ these to whoever makes me smile without tryin’ and defends me without my askin’. And,” she leaned in close to whisper in Nines’s ear--he leaned down obligingly--“Mrs. Grady says he’s gotta give good head.” Nines snorted despite himself.

Delia pulled back and waved a hand as if to push that thought away. “But I don’t really care about that, if he ain’ good at it, I’ll teach him. I just--I love him, you know?”

Nines thought of Gavin. Confronted with such a depth of emotion, with such deep, honest  _ love _ , Nines couldn’t say he knew what that was like yet. But he felt an undeniable pull towards Gavin Reed, a premonition, an oncoming storm of his devotion that he was powerless to stop.

No, he didn’t know what love was really like, not yet. But he was all but certain he would soon.

Delia gazed at the rings in her hands, running her fingertips over them softly.

“D’you think he’ll understand, if I give him this?” She asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Nines smiled encouragingly. “I think he will.”

Delia beamed up at him, and Nines’s chest filled with warmth.

Truth be told, Nines had no idea how one went about dating or marriage, as he had done neither himself--maybe he should write Rupert a letter and ask--but he had faith that if two people truly loved each other, as these two clearly did, they would find a way to work it out.

He wished them both all the best.

* * *

Nines left Delia with Jacob after locating him hiding behind a shop across the street, still flushed in the cheeks either from Delia’s proposition or all his running around town, and the two of them headed back down to the waterfront, arm in arm, laughing and smiling, while Nines went in the other direction,  _ finally _ making the final trek up to the mansion, to the Hero of Skill, to Gavin.

He  _ hoped _ it was the final trek. Nines really could not stand for any more interruptions.

Thankfully, wonderfully,  _ blessedly _ , it was. Nines reached the Lionhead mansion without any further incident.

It was bright and early when he arrived at the top of the hillside--the ordeal with Toby had taken him all night, after coming across him the evening before. Being a Hero meant that Nines didn’t need much sleep, so he felt none the worse for wear. He could see a few of Gavin’s crew milling about inside, but the mansion was far from crowded. Nines supposed not many pirates were morning people. Hopefully Gavin would be awake.

Nines couldn’t wait to see him.

And his luck must’ve finally turned for the better, because Gavin was right where he’d hoped to find him, poring over more manifests and charts and nautical maps spread across every flat surface of the back room Nines had come to realize was probably what passed for his office. Nines poked his head in, saw Gavin grumbling at a long strip of parchment, and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

Gavin looked up at the sound of the door clicking, and upon seeing who it was his expression immediately set into a scowl.

Well. That was somewhat disappointing. It certainly wasn’t the reaction Nines was hoping to inspire.

Clearly, he needed to fix this. But Nines would reach into the greatest depths of his magnanimity and find the patience to hold that thought until they’d finished saving the world. Needs of the many, and all that.

See, Amanda, he  _ had  _ been listening.

“Are you done?” Gavin challenged, arms crossed and gaze stormy. He’d put down whatever he’d been looking at so he could weather the full force of his glare at Nines.

“What is it now? Hobbes in the markets? Hollow Men swarming ships by the waterfront? Balverines infesting the cellars?”

Gavin stared at Nines angrily, clearly expectant. Nines, for his part, was unsure how to respond.

“...No?” He tried anyway. “Albion is at peace, or whatever passes for it. I made sure to fulfil my end of the bargain.” Nines smirked down at Gavin. “Or are you suggesting that there is yet someone in Bloodstone who  _ doesn’t _ know who I am?”

Gavin’s scowl turned thunderous, and Nines winced internally. This better not ruin his chances. The things he sacrificed for the public good.

“Oh, no,” Gavin began, voice steadily rising, and Nines had the sinking feeling he might’ve accidentally loosed a caged beast. “You’ve been  _ busy _ , these past two months, haven’t you! Fucking busting adventurers out of dungeons, slaughtering swamp trolls, bringing dead people back to life--” Nines went white as a sheet, flashbacks to Lady Grey’s horrible face threatening to nauseate his otherwise iron constitution, also, how did Gavin  _ know _ about that, he wasn’t supposed to find out--“and the  _ Banshee _ . You proved your fucking point! We could’ve been getting this shit over with  _ weeks  _ ago, but you just  _ had _ to go and--”

Right on cue, a deafening  _ boom _ reverberated through the mansion, and the building shook all around them.

Nines jerked into a battle stance, panicked, but Gavin seemed almost unphased, if a little annoyed. 

“Ah, fuck, there it is. C’mon, we don’t have much time.”

Gavin moved to one of the bookshelves lining the wall and heaved it to the side, revealing a hidden stairway on its other side. Nines stared at it, bewildered, even as the mansion was rocked with another volley of what must have been cannonfire.

Gavin through a smirk over his shoulder. “Courtesy of the previous owner. Hurry up, or you’ll get flattened.”

Gavin beckoned Nines through the passageway, and he obliged, cautiously. Gavin followed quickly behind and didn’t bother to cover the exit behind him. They descended into a network of tunnels below the city. They spiralled off in every which direction, and Nines would bet there were entrances all over Bloodstone. Perfect for the kinds of smuggling operations pirates were known for.

Gavin fell into step next to Nines and started to explain. “As I was saying, while you took your sweet time getting back here--” he side-eyed Nines irritatedly--“Elijah was able to figure out why you were in Bloodstone. Me.”

Understanding dawned on Nines. “He realized you were the Hero of Skill because I came looking for you.”

“Yup,” Gavin confirmed, popping the p obnoxiously. By the Light, he was adorable. “I mean, it’s not that hard. My skills are legendary.” He flashed his teeth in a proud grin, and Nines wanted to kiss it off his face.

He distracted himself from that  _ very _ contextually inappropriate thought by trying to refocus on the conversation.

“So Elijah is attacking the city in an attempt to kill you? Wait, your crew--” Nines almost halted in his tracks. Fuck, Gavin was right, Nines should’ve come sooner, if any of his crew ended up hurt or killed because of Elijah Gavin might never forgive him--

Gavin scoffed. “What, didn’t you notice that the mansion was practically empty today? One of my men caught word that Elijah was sending a force about a week ago. It wasn’t hard to figure out what for. The townspeople have all been told to bunker down, and I’ve sent most of the crew down to the ship, they should be holding Elijah’s goons off as we speak. We knew what was coming.” He turned to Nines with a feral grin. “You’re just lucky you showed up in time to enjoy the fun.”

Nines snorted in amusement. He was about to offer a retort when the sound of Amanda’s voice shocked him into silence, echoing loudly in the tunnels around them. Beside him, Gavin startled at the unfamiliar noise.

“Elijah is using great shards to transport hundreds of men to Bloodstone. You need to destroy them to stop the assault. Kara and Markus are already on their way; find a way to rendezvous with them when you make it out of those tunnels.”

Nines had no idea whether or not Amanda could know it, but he nodded. Her voice cut out, and he and Gavin were alone once more.

“...And what the  _ fuck _ was that,” Gavin swore, wary. He’d put a few steps of distance between himself and the strange noise, his back almost up to the cavern wall.

“Ah,” Nines said, and pulled the guild seal out from under his shirt. He showed it to Gavin. “That was Amanda. She’s a seer. She’s been helping me gather the Heros so I can…”

Finally get revenge for my slain brother, Nines almost said, but that seemed a bit too heavy at the moment, a bit too personal. Nines thumbed the worn picture Kara had returned to him back at the docks, stored safely in his pocket once more. 

Maybe someday he would like to tell Gavin about Connor. Someday, but not now.

And they were in the midst of a citywide bombardment, after all. Nines needed to establish his priorities.

As if to reaffirm this sentiment, the walls suddenly shook all around them as something on the surface suffered another concussive blast. Gavin sped back to his side and they picked up the pace, blinking the dust out of their eyes.

Gavin cast him a sidelong glance as they moved through the tunnels, obviously curious about the shift in Nines’s expression, but didn’t question him further on it, only returning to his side so smoothly it was as if he’d never left.

About halfway to the caverns’ exit--Gavin had explained that the network led back to a hidden cove on the beach, and that’s where they were headed--Spire guards started pouring into the tunnels.

“Damn,” Gavin cursed, but a terrible grin split his face. “They must’ve found a way in.” He drew his gun, eyes gleaming and expression alight with that wicked smile.

Nines followed suit without hesitation, a fond curl to his own lips. He drew his axe from across his back and leapt into the fray, eager to see what Gavin was made of.

Nines certainly hadn’t expected to be disappointed, but he was still absolutely stunned by the sheer capability with which the Hero of Skill wielded his weapon. For every guard that Nines sliced through or sent flying into the cave wall, it seemed like three more were felled by devastatingly precise headshots, one after the other. They dropped like flies around him.

In mere minutes, two dozen men had fallen, and Nines and Gavin were left standing amid the carnage. Nines stood stiff in the middle of it all, almost disbelieving at how quickly they had worked, how  _ well _ they had fought together. Gavin raised his smoking gun to his lips and blew on the tip, a cocky slant to his relaxed stance.

“C’mon,” he told Nines, clapping him on the shoulder and jostling him out of his bewildered daze as he passed by, “there’ve gotta be more where that came from, and I am just  _ itching _ to put these bastards in their place.”

Nines fell into step at Gavin’s side with a smile.

* * *

Several more groups of henchmen ambushed them in the tunnels, and they tore through each just as ruthlessly as they did the first. Their mysterious synergy refined the efficiency of their combat to a devastating extreme, and by the time they’d decimated the fourth group they were moving quicker than ever before.

They made it out of the tunnels in no time. As Amanda had told them earlier, Kara and Markus were waiting for them on the beach. Kara looked up when she heard them coming. She elbowed Markus, still staring anxiously out over the ocean, with a blooming grin. “She was right, they’re here!”

Gavin hung back a little, wary, but upon seeing Kara, Nines broke into a run, pulling her into a hug when he reached her side.

She returned his embrace warmly. “Good to see you again, Nines.” She clapped his back affectionately. “Hope we didn’t miss too much.”

“Sounded like a massacre,” Markus said from Nines’s left, nodding in the direction of the tunnel entrance. Nines pulled away from Kara to offer him his full attention. “Are all the soldiers gone?”

“Far away, I hope,” Kara cut in, stepping away from Nines, her smile souring to a solemn frown. “I don’t know how much more killing I can stand. Balverines and bandits behind every rock and tree, and for every one I kill, two more take its place.”

Her grip tightened on her warhammer. Nines offered a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and her dour expression lightened a little.

Seeing Nines converse with the other Heroes so readily, Gavin had shed his apprehension and joined them on the beach. He’d elected to ignore their conversation for the time being, instead turning back to the mouth of the tunnel and drawing his gun, aiming carefully at something in the distance.

It took a few seconds for Nines to notice. He followed the barrel of Gavin’s pistol, but couldn’t see what he was aiming for. Markus and Kara noticed as well, and cautiously laid hands on their weapons, uncertain. Nines felt a surge of pain start to build in him.

“Gavin, what--” A single shot rang out as Gavin pulled the trigger, and then a deafening boom filled the air. The Heroes ducked away from the thunderous noise as a plume of dust filled the air.

“What the--” Kara tried, shielding her eyes from the grit. Gavin holstered his weapon, unperturbed. When the dust cleared, it was apparent what he’d been trying to achieve.

The tunnel entrance was completely caved in.

“Explosives in the unmarked crates near the entrance,” he explained. “Risky, but perfect for situations just like this. Any soldiers left in there won’t be able to get through to us.”

Gavin turned on his heel, whirling around to face Kara with a smug grin alight on his face. He stuck out a hand. “Gavin Reed, Hero of Skill.”

Kara’s brows rose, but she made no comment at the somewhat ostentatious display. “Kara, Hero of Strength.” She shook Gavin’s hand politely.

Markus stepped in from where he stood off to the side. “Markus, Hero of Will.” Markus didn’t offer a hand of his own, both of his clasped behind his back, but he inclined his head in greeting. Gavin didn’t seem to mind, and responded in kind.

“Wait,” Gavin started, a terribly perplexed look flashing across his face that was far too cute to be fair, and he pulled his hand out of Kara’s loose grip. “If Strength, Skill, and Will are all accounted for, then what the fuck is Nines the Hero o--”

And then a Great Shard blasted the beach with a lightning strike, and all hell broke loose.

* * *

Truth be told, the final battle was the most fun Nines had ever had in his life. Sure, the threat of imminent death was a little concerning, and he was absolutely distraught at the idea of  _ Gavin’s _ life being in danger, let alone Kara’s and Markus’s, but he knew they could hold their own. They were the destined Heroes, and there was no reason not to put a little faith in them.

Plus, it was difficult to truly consider the possibility of failure when you’d lived for ten years with someone who never shut up about her visions of your ‘foretold triumph.’ He loved her, but sometimes Nines wanted to throttle Amanda.

The four of them weathered wave after wave of soldiers that the Great Shard summoned, Spire guards and soldiers and Commandants aplenty, and picked away at the Shard’s structural integrity whenever one of them could get a hit in. They tried to keep a running kill count for about ten minutes before the battlefield grew too chaotic to continue the effort.

Nines and Kara made up the flanks of the fray, hacking and bashing through anything their weapons could reach, crushing skulls beneath hammer flats and severing heads underneath axe blades. In the middle of the beach, Markus stood with eyes and Will lines pulsing a stark and electric blue, chanting under his breath in the language of the Old Kingdom as the ground around him sparked with deathly lightning storms or blazed with perditious infernos or tore asunder with vicious cyclones.

Gavin stood in position behind it all, his back to the mouth of the tunnels, his gaze steely and unwavering as he stared down the sights of his pistol, picking off anyone that tried to approach him with devastating and lethal accuracy. Whenever his skyrocketing kill count led to a lull in aggressors daring enough to approach him he was gracious enough to lend his skills in assistance to one of his comrades, landing bullets between the eyes of goons trying to land a lucky hit on Kara or Markus or Nines in between fending off his own gaggle of enemies.

Nines was pleased to find he wasn’t the only one having fun amidst the carnage. He traded quips with Gavin over the noise of the battle, a feral grin stretching his face, as they merrily tore their way through Elijah’s forces. Markus chipped in every so often with some of his own wry humor, and even Kara, with how unenthusiastic she seemed about the battle before, brightened up enough to laugh at their antics, the rush of fighting alongside worthy comrades against an unjust enemy lifting her low mood.

Eventually, Markus made the final shot at the Great Shard, and the beach was flooded in an explosion of white light.

Nines shielded his eyes against the brightness. When the light dissipated, the Shard started to come apart, pieces of the old artifact crumbling away and dropping onto the sand. The last wave of enemies seemed to have vanished along with the Shard’s power, and it was only the four Heroes left on the beach.

Nines ran quickly to the remnants of the shard, and converged with Kara and Gavin by Markus’s side, where he had already started poking at the destroyed machine.

The Shard gave no response, clearly down for the count. Markus’s eyes widened in astonishment. “We--we did it.”

Kara whooped in exhilaration. “Now that’s teamwork!”

Gavin heaved in a weary but satisfied breath, his hands planted at his hips. “Not that I didn’t have a blast, but we don’t have to do that again, do we? Shit’s a real workout, and I need Elijah out of my city sooner rather than later.”

Kara considered it, her forehead creasing with her frown. “I don’t think so, any minute now Amanda should--”

“The destruction of the Great Shard coincided with the retreat of Elijah’s forces from Bloodstone,” interrupted Amanda from  _ right fucking in front of them _ . Gavin nearly jumped out of his skin, Nines jolted back in shock, and Kara actually brought a hand to her heart as if she were worried it might spring out of her chest.

Markus, naturally, was completely unbothered.

The vestiges of light from Amanda’s teleportation spell lingered at her feet for a few seconds as she continued. “Your city is safe, pirate.” She gave Gavin a pointed nod.

“Uh--right, good,” Gavin sputtered, still reeling a bit in bewilderment at Amanda’s  _ incredibly _ abrupt appearance. “So, uh--Elijah, the murder plan, I mean world saving, what now? Because I would  _ really _ like to shoot the bastard. And save the world.”

It would be all but invisible to anyone who hadn’t spent the formative years of their life with the woman, but Nines could just barely make out the tiniest quirk at the corner of Amanda’s lips. She was amused.

“We must gather at the Circle of Heroes. The ritual we will perform there shall provide us with the weapon we need to defeat Elijah.”

Gavin blanched. Nines sighed, and resisted resting his head in his palm. Kara looked on, confused, and Markus remained stoic as ever in the face of such abject lunacy.

“It’s not really--please tell me it’s not really called that.  _ Please _ tell me. That’s--” Gavin couldn’t even finish the thought, dismayed as he was. Nines wordlessly offered him a consoling pat on the back.

“But that’s so  _ lame _ !”

* * *

Despite Gavin’s many and varied lamentations over the tragedy that was the people of Albion’s naming sense, Amanda was able to teleport the four of them back to the Guild Cave with no fuss, and from there they were only a cullis gate away from the Circle of Heroes.

It sounded pretentious, Nines would grant Gavin that, but in actuality it was simply a short stone monument with a round, flat top, carvings etched into the bottom and three thick fingers of rock caging it in and extending like claws towards the sky.

Amanda directed them across the carvings. Kara was to stand on the leftmost circle, Markus the far one, and Gavin the last to Nines’s right. Gavin snuck Nines a dirty grin as he moved to his place, and Nines couldn’t resist a smile of his own.

“What exactly does Elijah want?” Kara pondered from her circle, her hammer upended as she leaned her chin on the hilt in firm concentration.

“Aside from godlike power?” Nines snorted with a huff. A bit late to be asking what a homicidal madman could possibly want from life, if you asked him.

It was Gavin who spoke up to contradict him. “No, no, no, this kinda shit’s a means, not an end. What the fuck is he trying to  _ do _ with all that power, now, that’s the question.” He finished with a definitive huff, his arms crossed over his chest.

Nines eyed him from where he stood. Perhaps Gavin was right. Perhaps Kara was right. But forgive him if he had a hard time digging for logic in the motivations of his brother’s murderer.

Nines stuck a hand in his pocket and thumbed the cloth protecting the worn picture stowed away there.

Markus was quiet for a moment, contemplative, before he spoke. “When I knew him, he wanted to resurrect his family.”

Nines clenched the cloth a little too tightly.

“Probably still does,” Markus acquiesced with a tilt of his head, “but… Give a beggar a million gold, he’ll buy food--until he’s full. And then he realizes bread isn’t the only thing for sale.”

They all stood in silence for a few moments.

Amanda pulled them out of the grim mood and back to business. “Sparrow,” she told Nines, “It is time for us to begin.”

“Stand in the center.” She pointed him towards the pedestal situated exactly between Kara, Markus, and Gavin. “You represent that which binds the three together: Strength, Skill, and Will. Together you will call forth the great weapon that will kill Elijah.”

Gavin sputtered from his position at Nines’s right. “ _ That which binds the three together _ ? That’s totally cheating. You can’t be the Hero of  _ all three _ attributes, what the fuck--”

Nines smirked as he made his way to his circle, walk tinged with a cocky swagger. “What can I say? I’m multi-talented.”

Kara sputtered in utter disbelief at Nines’s left, drawing up to her full height in protest. “Bullshit, Nines! He can train in all three disciplines, sure, but  _ to this day  _ he has  _ never _ beaten me in an arm-wrestling contest,” and this she asserted with a confident smirk.

“Ah, I see.” Gavin’s eyes gleamed from where he looked over at Nines on his circle, alight with mischief. “So it’s a jack of all trades, master of none we’ve got here. Must suck to be you. How inconsiderate of me to bring it up.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Nines was rolling his eyes as he stopped beside the center pedestal, but his grin gave him away. “I can show you  _ exactly _ how  _ skilled _ I am when we finish saving the world.” He shot Gavin a heated look, and the man’s brows practically rose to his hairline. Nines thought he might’ve even been able to make out a blush tinting his features.

“Oh, gross,” Kara laughed, Markus chuckling too at the edges of Nines’s vision. “Save it for after--”

“It is time to start the ritual,” Amanda interrupted them in the midst of their mirth, and the sound of their laughter died out almost instantly, the genial air sobering. She moved out of the circle, and the Heroes stood grimly in their places, waiting for their next instruction.

“Step onto the pedestal,” she directed Nines with a tilt of her head, and he obeyed.

He stepped onto the circle. It started to glow white beneath his feet.

The ritual began in full force.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nines bb that's not how you kill a Banshee
> 
> (He figured it out the second time)


	5. Retribution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ritual begins, and goes awry just as quickly.

The white light, searing in its brightness, rose up from beneath Nines’s feet, and he clenched his fists hard as he fought to hold back a sick feeling of terror.

He closed his eyes tight. He had to remember, the light was  _ white _ , and he wasn’t back there, back then, with his brother. The light wasn’t blue, it wasn’t  _ red _ .

Nines suppressed a shudder just thinking about it.

A flash of color piercing through his eyelids spurred Nines into opening them again. Kara’s circle was the next to light up, blue, the color of strength, and while Nines almost flinched at the sight, Kara only stared down in amazement.

Gavin was next, his pedestal glowing a warm gold, almost soothing in its smooth, steady pulse. He had much the same reaction as Kara, gazing down at the etched stone beneath his feet with wide eyes.

That left only Markus. His circle would be glowing red. Nines made sure to turn his back on it, unwilling to look. He could stare at Gavin’s soft, soothing gold instead.

Of course, that meant Nines had a perfect view of the light at Gavin’s feet suddenly coalescing into a towering pillar, pulling Gavin into the air with its weight. He screamed in pain, and Nines almost stepped out of his place and ran to him, unthinking, but found he couldn’t move.

Nines could hear Markus next, a deep groan piercing the air somewhere behind him, and he could only assume the same thing was happening to him. Soon after it was Kara, crying out in agony as she too was lifted into the air by a tower of blue light.

Nines couldn’t remember much of what came next, the pain excruciating in its intensity. Energy from each of the three Heroes went pouring into him until he was more than overfull, packed with so much power he thought his body would split at the seams. For long minutes, all he could feel was agony, and all he could see was white.

It subsided all at once. Gavin, Markus, and Kara all dropped back onto the stone like puppets cut from their strings, and none of them could even muster the energy to groan at the impact. Nines’s circle subdued back to its normal searing white glow, and he stood dazed for several moments, unable to muster any more focus than what it took to listen for his friends’ ragged breaths where they lay sprawled on the stone.

Gavin was the first to regain his voice. “ _ Fuck _ ,” he panted, trying to lift himself onto his knees, “that  _ hurt _ .”

“I agree,” Markus heaved.

“Did we--” Kara supported her weight with her hammer as she struggled back to her feet, exhaustion threading through her words. “Did we do it? Where’s the weapon?”

Nines looked around himself, but as best he could see, the only weapons around were still the ones affixed to their persons. No new legendary axe had manifested itself.

“Well, shit,” Gavin swore. He had mostly gotten to his feet. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” Markus breathed, still a little unsteady. “We crossed beyond the far edge of my knowledge when Nines stepped into the center.”

“Wait,” Kara started looking around them in growing alarm, “Where’s Amanda?”

“Oh, fuck,” was Gavin’s eloquent response. His eyes widened in shock as he stared at something in the sky. Nines followed his gaze, and his heart sunk in his chest.

Half a dozen Great Shards had them surrounded.

Nines gripped the handle of his axe and tried to move, but it appeared that as long as the pedestal at his feet was still glowing, he was locked in place. He couldn’t even shift his stance. He grit his teeth in powerless frustration.

The Shards cast down their lightning, and before Nines appeared the very man he had been waiting twenty years to kill.

Elijah Kamski.

The years had not been kind to him. His once dark hair and youthful visage had become deathly gray locks and gaunt features, paler than even Lady Grey’s once-corpse. His eyes were sunken, bruised, and blood-red.

Nines clenched his fists so hard he drew blood.

Elijah regarded them all with a cold, detached expression. “Heroes. Enough power to build a new world, and you waste it trying to save the old one.”

Kara tried to take a step forward and almost crumpled to the ground, but her eyes blazed with an unquenchable fury. “You killed my father you--monster!” She seethed where she stood, a deathgrip on her hammer, but moved no further.

Markus tried to distract Elijah’s attention. “Open your eyes, Elijah. The ruins of the Old Kingdom are all around us.”

Elijah nodded. “And soon they will be buried under the New Kingdom. And you are looking at the new king.” His lips curled maliciously with his grin.

Nines could hear Markus’s shocked inhale. King of a New Kingdom. Well, Kara, Nines thought viciously, there’s your answer.

“ _ Pretender _ ,” Markus spat out, shuddering under his own weight. “Your fall will be hard and bloody.”

“Where is she?” Nines spoke for the first time. He couldn’t hold the question back any longer. He couldn’t keep the rapidly building panic at bay.

“Your fortune-telling friend?” Elijah regarded him with a tilt of his head. Nines moved a bloodied palm back to the hilt of his axe and gripped that instead. Elijah didn’t seem to notice.

“What have you done to her?” He demanded. He tried in vain to prevent the tears before they could well. They obscured his vision.

“Done to her?” He sounded somehow surprised by the accusation. “I merely listened.”

Nines’s grip almost loosened in shock.

What…?

Nines had no time to consider the implications, for the Great Shards sent down their lightning once more, pulling everyone but Nines and Elijah back to the Spire with their ancient magics. In an instant, they were alone.

Nines was alone with the monster from his nightmares.

Elijah started walking towards him, and Nines couldn’t stop the trembling from taking him over. “I should have gone out into the dark and found your body that night. But I was hasty. I let the bloodline flourish. And you have flourished.” He stopped directly in front of Nines and regarded him with a cold, unfeeling gaze. Nines couldn’t stop shaking.

“But this time is different. The last of the heroic blood will flow out onto this hilltop.”

Elijah drew a pistol from the folds of his coat. He took aim right between Nines’s eyes. Terror washed through Nines, head to toe. “The last time I killed you, it tore my heart out,” Connor’s murder mused. “Of course, you were only a child… But then, so was I.”

Elijah pulled the trigger, and everything went black.

* * *

“ _ Death is not your destiny today, little Sparrow. _ ”

* * *

“Come on, Nines, wake up!” A young voice giggled as something jostled Nines out of his comfortably slumber, and he swatted at it, grumbling.

“Five mo’ minutes…” he slurred, determined to remain half-asleep. The voice wasn’t having it.

“Nines, come on!” it cajoled excitedly.

Nines stubbornly remained in bed. For about five seconds, he was well on his way back to dreamland, but then,  _ mercilessly _ , something yanked his blissfully warm blanket out of his grasp.

“ _ Connor! _ ” Nines groaned in agony at the rush of cold against his skin. Connor laughed at him, thoroughly unrepentant. Honestly, Nines had just the  _ worst _ older brother.

“Mom and Dad have left already. You missed saying goodbye.” Nines grumbled unintelligible protests as he tried to rub some warmth back into his body. Connor bumped his shoulder in wordless apology, a playful smile alight on his face. “Come on, get up, it’s beautiful outside.”

Nines took a look out the window as he got dressed, and he had to admit Connor was right. It was a perfect day in Albion. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and the wind was a soft breeze. Nines couldn’t remember the last time their little farmhouse had seemed so idyllic.

“They won’t be back for  _ ages _ ,” Connor crowed. “We’re gonna have such a fun day! I’ve got so many things planned…”

Nines, now fully dressed, obligingly followed Connor out of their room and down the stairs, listening to him chatter away about bottles and beetles and chickens. He had to admit, it did sound like a lot of fun.

And it was. Nines and Connor spent the morning whacking beetles with toy swords in the crop fields, blunt wood but no less deadly to the oversized insects. The boys liked to think it made good practice for when they would join the town guard in ten years, or maybe become pirates, or maybe even Heroes.

Nines swore Connor changed the plan every other day, but he just rolled his eyes and went with it, because he was the  _ good _ brother.

Once they’d taken care of the beetles, it was time to round up the chickens and make sure they were all back in the coop. They had escaped, somehow--Nines thought that Connor was hedging that explanation rather suspiciously--and after the boys had raided their kitchen for something passable as lunch, the early afternoon was devoted to seeing who could get a chicken into the coop with the least number of kicks.

Nines lost by two, but he was perfectly happy with letting Connor be the better chicken-chaser. In fact, Nines had better call Connor that from now on, in respect of his resounding victory.

He informed Connor of this, and spent another hour screaming at the top of his lungs as his brother chased him across the farm with every intention of wringing his neck.

Connor finally managed to tackle Nines, and they collapsed in an exhausted heap, laughing until they lost their breath as they rolled around in the grass.

After they’d rested enough to regain their strength, they spent the rest of the evening doing target practice. Connor would give Nines hints to where he’d hidden the bottles--Connor was a terrible hint-giver, he always got too giddy and impatient and often ended up practically pulling Nines in the right direction--and Nines would take out his toy gun and do his best to shoot the bottle down.

The sun was almost completely set by the time Nines got the last bottle, and he and Connor cheered happily when it shattered where it stood. A moment later, their stomachs grumbled just as loudly, and they descended into fits of giggles as they raced back to the house for dinner.

They’d finished stuffing their faces in no time. Sprawled in front of the dining table, Nines patted his belly contentedly, and Connor leaned back in a stretch, yawning.

“That was a fantastic day, but I’m worn out,” Connor sighed. He gave Nines a sleepy smile. “Let’s go to bed.”

Nines nodded, and the two of them tiredly staggered their way up the stairs and back to their beds. Nines could’ve just flung himself on the mattress and been out like a light, but he made the effort to change into his sleeping clothes before he bid goodbye to this mortal plane for the next twelve hours. Beside his own bed, Connor did the same.

Nines retrieved his blankets from where Connor had flung them earlier in the day and burrowed into bed with them. He closed his eyes, about to drift off, when he heard Connor mumble something from across the room.

“G’night, Nines,” he whispered.

Something warmed in Nines’s chest, and he smiled. “Night, Connor.”

* * *

Nines jolted awake in the middle of the night, pulled back into consciousness by an enchanting melody that he could feel boring its way into his very soul.

It was breathtakingly beautiful. Nines had never heard anything like it.

Nines threw the covers off of himself, uncaring of the cold even in the middle of the night, and went to the open window to see if he could tell where it was coming from.

In the space of an instant, Connor was at his side. Nines didn’t hear him get up. At the moment, he didn’t care. The melody had taken him over, and it wasn’t likely to let go.

“It’s nothing, Nines,” Connor told him, almost pleadingly. “Go back to sleep.”

Nines didn’t move, only listening to the soft tune, faint but somehow deafening.

He gazed out into the distance, and he noticed something. The front gate to the farm was open.

Perhaps that was where such lovely music was coming from.

“Come on, get back to bed, Nines. It’s dark, and I’m too tired to go out and play.”

Nines ignored Connor. He moved away from the window and located his shoes, slipping them on while he turned a deaf ear to Connor’s complaining.

“Niiiiiiiines,” he whined as Nines made his way to the stairs, “you’re being really annoying!”

Nines didn’t stop. He left the house and followed the path to the front gate. “Where are you going?” Connor called after him.

Nines didn’t answer him. He caught something unfamiliar in the corner of his vision as he walked, and lifted his arms.

He was dressed. He didn’t remember changing out of his pajamas, but he must’ve, right?

He must’ve.

Nines let all thoughts of anything but the beautiful melody fade away.

The gate was in sight. Connor was still back at the house, but for some reason Nines could still hear him as if they were side by side. “Are you crazy? It’s dangerous out there, Nines! Come back!”

Nines wavered for a small second. The melody was pulling him closer, ever closer, but still he hesitated. Connor sounded almost panicked. Was he really so worried--?

Nines was sure it was fine. It had to be fine.

Nines made it the gate.

“Don’t go!” Connor’s voice yelled from all around him, and it shook Nines to his core.

Nines stumbled through the gate, tripping in shock at the anguish in his brother’s voice, but by then it was too late.

“NO!” Connor screamed in agony before the sound of him faded to nothing.

Nines could only walk the path before him, pulled by the bewitching music, unable to turn back, unable to see what had become of his brother. Tears welled and flowed freely down his cheeks. The green hills of the woods surrounding his home had turned redder with blood and flame for every step that he took.

He passed a burning carriage, and he couldn’t move his head anymore to see, but he didn’t have to to know what it was.

It was his parents’ carriage, destroyed, their bodies strewn amongst the rubble, skewered by bandit swords. 

It started to rain, but the water did nothing to quench the blazing flames, nothing to subdue that terrible, horrible, bloody  _ red _ .

Nines kept walking towards the sound of ethereal music.

He walked through ruins, unidentifiable bodies strewn about his path. He kept his eyes straight forward, trying not to think, trying not to see. The music carved itself into his bones.

He found it at the end of the path, atop a small tower, floating within a pillar of light. It spun gently as it played; an old, ornate music box.

Nines picked it up. The world fell away around him.

_ “Castle Fairfax looks so nice in the snow.” _

_ “If only we could live there.” _

_ “Perhaps that could be arranged.” _

_ “No!” _

Nines blinked, and he remembered. Amanda’s voice drowned out the sound of old memories.

_ “For centuries, this academy trained the most supremely gifted sons and daughters of Albion, bound together by the blood that flowed in their veins. Can you feel the power coursing through you?” _

Nines could. It tingled under his skin ceaselessly, sparking with a vicious intensity.

Something shifted in the empty space. Kara’s voice emerged from the void, a memory. The Crucible commentators, celebrating his victory. The Commandant, vowing to break him.

Something shifted again. Nines heard the whisperings of Wraithmarsh calling him to the deep. Gavin’s voice, challenging him to be worth his time. 

And again. Elijah’s voice floated through his mind, wretched.

_ “The last time I killed you, it tore my heart out. Of course, you were only a child… But then, so was I.” _

And then everything went white. Connor’s voice spoke to him, warm but achingly unfamiliar.

“You have passed the test. Your rewards are the opportunity to confront your enemy… and the means to destroy him.

“Take the box, and go to him.”

Connor’s voice faded, and took a piece of Nines with it.

* * *

Nines regained awareness in the Spire, that horrid structure that he had sacrificed a decade of his life to. The suppressive magics of the tower had allowed his memories of his time there to blur together and fade, but back in the belly of the beast it all came rushing back in terrible clarity.

The thrumming beneath his feet threatened to take Nines apart, but he gripped the music box tight and moved forward.

He made his way to the very center of the Spire, Elijah’s domain, the core. He ascended the staircase. He crossed the threshold.

His eyes took a second to adjust to the bright light, and when they did, Nines saw what must’ve been a replica of the ritual the Heroes had attempted earlier, what summoned the music box, their relic, their weapon. Three circular platforms surrounded a center, Kara, Markus, and Gavin once more suspended in the air, being forced to channel their power into Elijah in the white light where Nines once stood.

If Elijah was shocked to see Nines he didn’t show it, managing at best a perhaps vaguely surprised tone. He spoke from within his glowing sphere of siphoned energy.

“Your power is astounding. Twice you’ve cheated death. Yet your abilities are trivial compared to the infinite power of the Spire, which will soon be mine!”

Elijah fixed his gaze at Nines, as if trying to carve the words into his very being. “Now…” He commanded, with an undercurrent of otherworldly power seeping into his voice, “ _ Sleep _ .”

A wave of magic pulsed outwards from him, a wave that by all accounts should have left Nines completely at its mercy, and would have--but he was protected.

Nines lifted the music box and turned the key.

“What? What is that?” Elijah must have recognized the relic, because for the first time in Nines’s memory he could hear the beginnings of panic in the murderer’s voice. Or perhaps he had no idea what it was, and that in and of itself made it worth fearing.

Nines couldn’t resist. “Didn’t my brother tell you, all those years ago? It’s that magic box. You wind it up,” Nines wound the key until he felt the final  _ click _ , “and you make a wish.”

Nines let the key go, and the effects were immediate.

Suddenly Kara’s light, the blue of Strength, was being pulled from Elijah into the music box, pouring into him only to be sucked right back out.

Elijah started to struggle from inside the white light. “What are you doing? Do you think a mere trinket will save you? Do you think anything can?”

The thread of blue light connecting Kara to Elijah vanished, and the music box started to absorb the red of Markus’s will. Elijah grew all the more panicked within his rapidly dwindling sphere of energy.

“Stop! Think about what you’re doing! I will put an end to chaos!”

The thread between Markus and Elijah broke next, and the once-lord was all but screaming at Nines from across the chamber. The music box now siphoned yellow light, Gavin’s warm, honeyed gold, from Elijah’s wretched clutches back into its depths.

“Stop now, you fool! You insect! I order you to stop!”

Gavin’s tether soon vanished, and the music box’s light turned white as it finally started to suck the power out of Elijah himself.

Elijah yelled and thrashed inside his sphere of white energy, disbelieving, trying in vain to reject the reality that was his magic, his lofty ideals, all that he had worked for for the past twenty years being taken from him. But taken they were, and he screamed in agony as the white light surrounding him grew brighter and brighter, until it was blinding, and exploded in a brilliant flash that signified the last of his power, gone.

When Nines’s eyes adjusted in the aftermath, he could see his fellow Heroes had collapsed back onto their circular platforms, exhausted and in all likelihood thoroughly drained. He’d worry about their health, but he could hear the ragged inhale and exhale of their breaths; they were all alive, and anything else could be dealt with later.

In the center platform, Elijah had at least managed to remain on his feet, staggering but upright, no longer protected by his barrier of energy. He glared at Nines with deathly, unnaturally white eyes.

“Do you consider that a victory?” He spat at Nines’s feet. Nines stowed the music box away, now dormant, and gripped the hilt of his axe instead. He drew it slowly as he advanced. Elijah didn’t seem to care. “You are merely delaying the inevitable,” he sneered.

“All that you’ve struggled for will be crushed under the majesty of the--” Nines slammed his axe down in a brutal killing stroke, and Elijah’s flesh rent beneath its blade. The force of the blow sent his body careening over the edge of the platform, and he fell clean over the side, into the unknowable depths below.

“ _ Finally _ ,” someone said with exaggerated disgust. Nines turned, and it was Gavin, heaving himself to his feet and dusting himself off, seemingly none the worse for wear. Something in Nines’s chest unclenched at the sight. “I thought he’d  _ never _ shut up.”

Gavin snorted distastefully, planted his hands on his hips and spat over the edge of the platform with extreme prejudice. “Good fucking riddance,” he swore.

Nines had just committed the revenge killing he’d spent the last two decades of his life working towards, and he couldn’t help cracking a smile.

Something moved across the way, and it was Kara, finally finding the strength to make it on her feet. She hadn’t bothered unholstering her hammer from her back to help support herself.

“Elijah’s...dead,” she said between deep breaths. “So...what happens now?”

For some moments, there was an uncertain silence as they all gazed at each other, helpless, the only sounds from Markus as he finally staggered to his feet.

Suddenly, a familiar voice interrupted the void. “Now?”

Amanda appeared right in front of Nines, teleporting in with her pillar of light as she was wont to do, standing on the center pedestal where Elijah had been mere minutes ago like it was where she was meant to be all her life.

Something unsure panged in Nines’s chest. Amanda either didn’t notice, or made the decision not to acknowledge it.

She addressed him with a cool, unfamiliar formality.

“Hero, it is time you gained your reward, your gift for saving the world from a madman’s selfish dream. The Spire has awakened. And it still has the power to grant one wish. Yours.”

Nines’s heart quickened in his chest as Amanda reached out to him. “Come. Take my hand.”

Nines hesitated for the briefest of seconds, wary. But then Connor’s voice seemed to whisper to him again, strange yet somehow still comforting. “It’s alright, Nines,” it said. “Don’t be afraid.”

Nines steeled himself against his uncertainty, and took Amanda’s hand.

The next thing he knew, they were surrounded by nothing but light, in a place that was somehow bright but not harsh. Amanda stood before him.

“You stand in the heart of the Spire, as the Archon of the Old Kingdom did thousands of years ago.”

Nines stared at their surroundings in awe. They existed in a void of white space; no ground, no sky, no walls, just a brightness that extended as far as the eye could see. It didn’t look like the heart of anything. The Spire was truly a mystifying structure.

Amanda drew his attention once more. “Now it is your turn. Make a wish, but choose wisely, for it will affect all of Albion.”

A card from the deck of tarot cards Amanda utilized for fortune-telling appeared before Nines, hovering in the air just below his natural line of sight.

“The Many. You may choose to revive all who died in the Spire’s making.” Amanda flicked her wrist, and another card materialized on Nines’s other side.

“Or The One. You may choose wealth; you will be bestowed more gold than you can ever imagine, to spend on whatever pleases you.”

Nines waited for several moments, confused. When Amanda did nothing more than stand by patiently, Nines just had to interrupt.

“Wait...Seriously? I can choose to save thousands of lives or obtain thousands of gold, and that’s it? Those are my only two options?”

Amanda inclined her head ostensibly in agreement, but Nines swore that she was also hiding an amused smirk at his antics.

“These are the wishes that the Spire has seen fit to grant you. Now make your choice, little Sparrow.”

Nines almost snorted in disbelief. Well, there was obviously only one real option, wasn’t there?

He could save so many. He remembered Bob, prone on the floor, executed by the Commandant, completely unaware in his last moments; unable to even recall the wife he had loved so much, the wife Nines had hoped in vain he could return Bob to someday.

That hope was not in vain anymore.

“The Many,” Nines just about shouted in Amanda’s face. “I choose The Many.”

A warm smile curled Amanda’s lips beneath her hood. “Very well, my child. Your wish is granted.”

The light of their shared space flared brilliantly, blinding Nines for a split second, and when he reopened his eyes they were back in the Spire’s center, surrounded by his fellow Heroes.

Kara was staring up at him with a look of dumbstruck awe. “We heard everything,” she breathed. “All those people--all of them, back to their families, just like that?”

Amanda nodded. “Yes. A wish was made, and the world will bear its consequences.”

She turned around to face the three Heroes, her back to Nines as she addressed the others.

“You have succeeded, Heroes, and the whole world thanks you. Your work here is done. The Spire will grant no more, but I can send you anywhere in the world from here, if that is what you wish.”

Markus was the first to speak up. “I wish to return home. To Samarkand.”

Kara turned to look at Markus worriedly, and Nines craned his head around Amanda to get a better look himself.

“Samarkand?” Kara asked, “But we only just started getting to know you! You can’t stay for just a while longer?”

Nines nodded in vehement agreement. “At least let me buy you a drink. I still haven’t repaid you for helping me bust out of this cesspit the first time.”

Nines was almost too busy being distracted by the sight of Gavin’s mouth pulling into a fierce scowl in his peripheral vision at the words ‘buy you a drink,’ inwardly delighting at the unexpected reaction, to catch Markus’s response.

He had laughed heartily at Nines’s words. “My friend, I am quite certain that  _ I _ am the one who owes  _ you _ the debt for that rescue.” He offered Nines a warm smile. “And I’ll be back to pay it someday. But for now, I must go home. It’s been a long twenty years.”

Nines wordlessly nodded his acceptance, not thrilled but understanding. Kara crossed the platform to pull Markus into a hug before he left, squeezing so tight Nines could hear the ominous sound of joints cracking even as Markus returned the embrace with an amused grin.

Eventually, Kara let him go, and she pulled away with a watery smile so Amanda could work her magic.

Markus gave them one last bow, and then Amanda’s magic took him far away, vanishing him in a pillar of light.

Once he was gone, Nines turned to Kara, who’d fallen into step at his side. “What will you do?”

She seemed to pull it over for a minute, but Nines got the feeling she’d decided on her next path long ago, and only struggled to find the words.

Finally, she heaved out an exhausted sigh, turning to face Nines fully. “I’m tired, Nines,” she said. “I’m sick of the fighting. I was never meant for violence, I never--I was a  _ monk _ for most of my life!” She barked a despairing laugh. Nines stood frozen. He had no idea she’d been feeling this way.

“Now, I know I’m meant to be a Hero. I can feel it, I like helping people. But I went from avoiding violence to causing it, two equally powerless extremes. I need to find some sort of middle ground. And with that in mind,” she turned from Nines to Amanda on the center platform, gazing placidly at the both of them from under her hood. Kara addressed her next words to Amanda directly.

“I want to study with the warrior monks in the north. They teach their disciples how to transcend violence. That is what I need to learn, to be my better self and to be a better Hero.”

She took Nines’s hand in both of hers and gazed at him with that beautiful, bright smile, silently pleading with him to understand, to not hold it against her for needing to leave him. Nines thought,  _ fuck that _ , and yanked her into the strongest hug he could give, fully aware that he’d be the one left with bruised ribs.

Nines only let her go when he felt a weight upon his shoulder, grounding and reassuring. It was Gavin, but his expression was no longer jealous or displeased; only resigned to Kara’s departure, and hopeful that his presence would be of some comfort. Nines leaned back into him, grateful for his steady presence, as Kara stepped back in preparation for her own journey.

She closed her eyes, sorrowful but content. Amanda sent her off in another burst of magical light, and in an instant, she was gone.

That only left Gavin. Nines turned to him quickly, building to a panic. Gavin leaned back in surprise at the sudden movement, his brows rocketing upwards.

Nines resisted the urge to physically reach out and grab Gavin’s wrists in an attempt to keep him at his side. “You--you’re not leaving too, are you?” He clenched his fists so he’d stop flexing them futilely.

Gavin quirked an eyebrow, and gave Nines a look. “No? Just back home.”

Nines must’ve looked crushed, because Gavin looked bewildered. “...To Bloodstone?” He reiterated, slowly, like perhaps the whole thing with the Spire might’ve knocked a few screws loose in Nines’s brain. Honestly, it was definitely within the realm of possibility.

The dots connected, finally, and Nines breathed a great sigh of relief, his whole body wilting under the weight of its release. Gavin’s lips quirked at the corners.

Gavin ducked his head, trying to put himself back in Nines’s line of sight. “Would you like to come with me?”

Nines shot back up so fast it was only Gavin’s well-honed reflexes that prevented them both from suffering what would have been a rather embarrassing injury. He stared straight into Gavin’s eyes, trying to discern the intention behind his words.

To Nines’s pure, absolute, unadulterated  _ delight _ , Gavin started to redden under his scrutiny. It was hardly noticeable at first, just the slightest flush to his cheeks, but it built and built until after minutes of silence had passed and he was blushing hotly from ear to ear, an adorably indignant pout having graced his countenance at some point when Nines wasn’t paying attention that just about stole Nines’s heart right there.

It was when that awful cloud of doubt seeped into Gavin’s gaze and he crossed his arms protectively over his chest, forming a barrier between them, that Nines shook himself out of his daze and managed to muster his response.

“Yes!” He said at what was almost certainly an inappropriately loud volume. Nines was sure his own blush must’ve alight across his own face, if Gavin’s gleeful grin was any indication. Nines tried again with a more proper tone. “Yes. I would like to go back to Bloodstone, with you, if that’s alright. I, um…”

Nines couldn’t help but look away, couldn’t hold back the small flicker of shame. “I don’t have anywhere--anyone--to go home to.”

Nines looked back up at the feeling of a hand below his shoulder, clasping with warmth. Gavin’s eyes were not full of pity, as Nines dreaded, but with understanding; the slightly haunted look of someone who knew what it was like. Someone who had been there. His gaze was firm and reassuring.

Nines reached up with his own hand and stroked Gavin’s wrist in a silent expression of thanks. Their eyes locked again. Something seemed to pass through them, a spark set to ignite something just beyond their reach. Gavin moved closer. Nines leaned down. Their eyes lidded--

“So your destination is Bloodstone, then?”

The two of them leapt apart, hearts hammering in their chests for two  _ very _ separate reasons, and Nines whirled around to cast an  _ extremely _ sour glare Amanda’s way. She blithely ignored him, as she often did when Nines accused her of cockblocking him, because she was  _ terrible _ even if Nines loved her.

She was very clearly smirking underneath her hood.  _ Curse  _ that woman, honestly.

Gavin, once he was finally able to slow his panicked wheezing enough to speak--it wouldn’t have taken him so long if he hadn’t wasted so much oxygen cursing under his breath, and if he wasn’t already Nines would’ve been smitten by the third muttered ‘ _ fuck _ ’--was the one to grace Amanda’s  _ unecessary  _ and _ ill-timed _ interruption with a response.

“Yes--Bloodstone. Yeah, just--zap us there. Whenever you’re ready.” There was another voiceless ‘ _ fuck _ ’ spat to the side, and Nines would’ve cooed if Amanda wasn’t right there.

Amanda inclined her head in understanding. “Then it is time for you to leave. The world is yours to enjoy.” She fixed her sightless gaze on Nines, and something cold and unfamiliar pooled in his gut. “But the Spire is mine. Begone.”

The ground beneath their feet lit up with that shifting glow, and the next thing Nines knew, he was standing at the waterfront with Gavin, surrounded by people but unable to shake the feeling that he was now, somehow, alone.

* * *

Gavin tried to talk to him about it, and Nines recognized that as the indicator of emotional investment that it was, because Gavin didn’t really seem like the talk-about-your-feelings kinda guy, but here he was making the effort, for Nines.

“So, uh. What happened back there?” His eyes ficked up at Nines, concerned, before bouncing away again as Gavin fidgeted somewhat awkwardly in his seat, unsure of what to say but caring enough not to let Nines stew. The two of them had taken refuge in The Leper’s Arms, two pints of ale just about untouched between them.

Nines had been surprised to see it so empty, when they first came in--or what Nines would consider empty, seeing as how the first time he’d been there it was practically bursting to the rafters with Gavin’s raucous crew. Gavin had explained that after their successful defense of Bloodstone against Elijah’s attacking forces--which was only yesterday, Nines could hardly believe it--his crew were almost certainly still sleeping off the wild party they doubtlessly held last night, while the Heroes were preparing the ritual.

Nines thought that was all the better. It’d be hard enough to talk about this as it was, with someone he trusted and fought alongside--he wouldn’t be able to stomach the thought of eavesdroppers trying to stick their nose in.

He sighed. The easiest way through this conversation was forward.

“I can’t help but think that Amanda’s true goal all these years, all this time she’s been helping me--” all those years she  _ raised _ me, Nines didn’t say--“was so that she could gain access to the Spire once Elijah had been defeated.”

Gavin’s finger halted from where it had been idly tracing lines up and down the handle of his pint. He met Nines’s gaze again, his eyes slowly widening.

“That’s…” He couldn’t seem to find the words. “A lot,” he finished lamely.

Nines couldn’t blame him. He sighed again. “I know it’s a stupid thing to feel so, so--” words were failing him, too, so he waved a hand in a vague approximation of significant meaning.

“She’s a seer. She facilitates the visions she gets. If she wants the Spire, it’s probably where she’s meant to be, it’s probably the only way to prevent the next Lord Elijah--” they both grimaced at the name, good riddance indeed--“from trying to carry out the same mad scheme. But still, I…”

Nines’s hands clenched on the table, and Gavin’s gaze ficked to them and back up to Nines, his eyes concerned but still soft and understanding. He didn’t reach a hand out to touch, and for that, Nines was grateful. He quite liked touching Gavin, was incredibly fond of what little he’d already done, but right now he felt like he was bursting with crazy, pent-up energy and the slightest contact would set it all free.

Instead, he put a voice to what Nines could not. “You feel abandoned. Not just because she’s apparently holed herself up in the Spire for who knows how long, but because in all the years you’ve known her she’s never told you a thing about her master plan. That it?” Gavin leaned back in his seat, a self-assured glint in his eyes.

With anyone else, such a blunt approach to such a sensitive topic might’ve made Nines feel as if he’d been bludgeoned with every word. Instead, he only relaxed in his chair, all the tension leaving his body in one gratifying instant.

“Yeah,” he told Gavin softly. “That’s it.”

Gavin seemed to consider that for a moment, tapping his finger on his chin, studying Nines. Nines waited patiently. Eventually, Gavin surged forward again, righting his chair underneath him with a sharp  _ clack _ .

“She still loves you, you know.” Gavin told him, looking him straight in the eyes. Nines’s stubbornly welled with tears, even as he wished them away in his building embarrassment. “I can see it, clear as day. The way she smiled at you back in the Spire, the way she talked to you, talked  _ about _ you. The woman loves you as if you were her own child, and no hunk of all-powerful magic rock is gonna change that.”

He sat back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff, daring Nines to disagree.

Nines’s heart warmed in his chest. This man had scarcely known him for a handful of weeks, and he already knew all the right things to say. “Thank you,” he said, with all the heartfelt sincerity he felt inside. “I know she does, really, but that doesn’t stop the doubt. It means a lot, to hear it from someone else.” He let the smile he could feel forming bloom across his face, and he could swear he could see Gavin blush cutely at the corners of his eyes. Fucking adorable.

Gavin coughed into his hand, mumbling a little before his response became intelligible. “Yeah, uh, sure. Don’t mention it.”

Nines’s smile softened. He reached across the table, taking Gavin’s other hand in his. Gavin didn’t pull away.

They spent the rest of the afternoon of their victory in The Leper’s Arms, talking, finally downing their pints of ale, and truly getting to know each other for the first time since they’d met, those weeks that now seemed years ago.

Nines was still a bit raw, and would be for a while at the departure of his foster mother and his dearest friend, but to him, it felt like a new start.

* * *

It had been two months since Nines had accompanied Gavin to Bloodstone. Two months since Gavin had offered him a room at his base--not Gavin’s, unfortunately, but his own room that he didn’t have to share with Gavin’s crew, lovely as they all were--and Nines was absolutely  _ fucked _ .

He was gone on Gavin. Absolutely in love. Besotted. Ass over thrice-cursed teakettle. And he had  _ no idea how to express it _ .

“I love you” suddenly seemed like a phrase that was at once absolutely too trite while simultaneously being precariously heavy, as if were he to drop it at the wrong time it would fall too hard and shatter the foundation of their relationship beneath their feet.

So, clearly, Nines needed to  _ show _ his affection, the depth of his feelings for Gavin. Actions speak louder than words, as everyone said; truly one of the wiser adages the people of Albion had touted throughout Nines’s lifetime. The things he heard in this country, he swore.

They had only been dating for that meager handful of weeks, after Nines had asked Gavin,  _ very _ gallantly if you asked him, if he would be willing to enter into a relationship with Nines. Gavin had, predictably, if Nines was being honest, slapped a hand over his mouth in an obvious bid to try and prevent laughter from spilling out.

Nines had scowled thunderously at him, but saw in Gavin’s eyes only delighted mirth and not derisive scorn, so he let the man laugh it up at his expense, collapsing against the threshold to the Lionhead mansion as he took great joy from Nines’s awkwardness. Nines waited patiently for him to settle down--“ _ ‘enter into a romantic relationship _ , fuck, it’s called  _ dating _ , Nines,” said between stifled chuckles--until he could hear Gavin’s response.

Gavin’s laughter died away into a smile, warm and soft. “Yeah,” he’d said. “Yeah, Nines, I’d like that.”

And the rest was history. If two months counted as history. The point was, Nines was fucked and he needed to show Gavin just how fucked he was so Gavin would understand and be able to accurately relate to Nines just how close he was to feeling the same way.

A task easier said than done. He had spent a whole hour brooding about it alone in The Leper’s Arms, sullenly gazing into his pint of beer, and come up with precisely jack shit. He couldn’t think of  _ anything _ . Nines was in serious trouble.

Gavin and his crew would be out until the evening, out at sea making sure no new crews would try to edge in on their turf now that Elijah was out of the picture, so Nines had some time to figure it out. But at this rate, it’d take him  _ years _ to think of something.

Nines scowled at his mug. Perhaps he would need to alter his plan.

It was then that like a light from the heavens, or perhaps like a siren’s call from the shore, Nines’s ears caught onto the drunken words stammered out by one of the tavern’s regulars, the man Gavin had told him was known by Salty Jack. A true pirate’s name, if Nines’d ever heard one.

“I saw him,” Salty Jack said. “With my own two peepers, I tells you.”

He was insisting this to a group of rowdy taverngoers crowded around the table across from him, but they only laughed and jeered at him, obviously heckling like it was a story they’d all heard before and knew with absolute certainty to be false. They moved on, cackling. Nines quickly got up and took their place, sliding into the chair across from Jack with practiced ease.

“Who did you see?” Nines asked. If it was something important, Nines needed to check it out. He could take care of it for Gavin; it’d be a good start to his plan, if nothing else.

Salty Jack crowded over the table conspiratorially. “They think old Jack is mad, but he’s not.” He tapped his temple assuredly. Nines quirked an eyebrow.

“I have a tale for thee you’ll scarcely credit, of legends and vast treasures and...ugh, my throat is far too dry to go on.” He leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his throat pointedly. With his other hand, he tilted his empty ale mug at Nines, his implication obvious.

Nines rolled his eyes, but dutifully got up and bought the man another ale, pushing it across the table as he sat back down across from him, his brows raised in clear expectation. Jack took the ale, inclined his head gratefully at Nines, and took a long drink. It was only after he’d set the mug back down and wiped his mouth with a satisfied exhale that he continued his supposedly fantastical tale.

“Thank ye! It does me a world of good, that.” Jack leaned in towards Nines, his eyes glinting with untold secrets. “Now, listen to old Jack’s story, and be amazed.”

Nines was indeed, to his considerable surprise, amazed. Salty Jack claimed to have seen the ghost of Captain Dread himself, the vicious pirate whose legendary riches had to this day remained undiscovered, right here in Bloodstone. Nines couldn’t even find it in himself to doubt the man; he had seen many a ghost before, and it was likely that Bloodstone used to be Dread’s base of operations. At the very least, it was definitely worth checking out.

And so, when Salty Jack looked to Nines with an almost desperate plea etched into the lines of his face and asked, “You’ll prove me right, won’t you? You’ll prove old Jack ain’t tellin’ no tales?” Nines didn’t hesitate before he nodded.

“If you saw something, sir, I’ll be sure to find it.”

Jack beamed a gap-toothed smile. 

* * *

Jack directed him to a cave on the coast, past the far edge of the waterfront that curled around the far corner of Bloodstone, where the last of the land jutted out into the sea.

Sure enough, when he reached the end of the narrow seaside path, there it was; a cavernous hole leading into the craggy cliffs surrounding him.

Nines drew his axe from its place on his back and stepped into the dark.

A small Inferno danced haphazardly across his fingertips to light his way through the tunnel. Nines had thought this might’ve connected to the system Gavin had taken him through back in the city, but the wooden planks ribbing the walls suggested it used to be some sort of mine shaft. It was certainly too narrow to be used for smuggling.

He’d only been traveling for about a minute when he halted in his tracks. Nines held out his left hand, flame flickering spastically in his palm, and peered down the deep hole that stretched before him.

It was a drop of at least a few dozen feet. Even with water at the bottom, that wasn’t feasible for a regular human.

Nines flicked his gaze back in front of him. The path continued past the gap, but only for a few more feet before it became a dead end.

Nines looked back down, and shrugged.

The only thing to do was jump.

* * *

To Nines’s considerable surprise, his rather impressive swan dive into the lower levels of the cave was greeted by a scratchy voice that echoed against the rock all around him.

“ _ Cursed be all ye who enter the domain of Captain Dread! _ ”

Nines treaded water faster, absolutely delighted. It looked like this wouldn’t be a wild goose chase after all. He might even have a bit of fun.

Nines swam over to the only visible passageway and shook himself dry as quickly as he could. He followed the path through winding tunnels that soon opened out into a hidden cavern, set deep into a cliff and open to the outside sea.

He stepped into the cavern, following the path along the leftmost wall, and his jaw dropped when he saw the vessel pulled up alongside it.

It was a ship. A huge, beautiful,  _ pristine _ sailing ship. Captain Dread’s, most likely, Nines thought absently in his distracted awe. This must’ve been his crew’s base of operations.

Nines followed the ramps up to higher ground. This was  _ insane _ , Nines thought with glee, gazing in wonder at all that he passed. Even Gavin hadn’t known about this place. It must’ve gone unnoticed for decades.

Nines found his way into the mess hall, and it was there that he found his fun. Dozens of ghost pirates rose from their seats and set upon him, convinced that he was here to steal their captain’s treasure.

Nines couldn’t help his grin. Fighting living enemies was upsetting at worst and thoroughly taxing at best, but when his opponents were already dead, he didn’t have to hold back.

Nines gripped his axe and leapt into the fray.

A good twenty minutes later, Nines was pleasantly exhausted. It was a good fight--he wasn’t used to taking on so many enemies at once, but he always appreciated the challenge. He rolled his shoulders as he ascended the staircase at the back of the hall, setting a leisurely pace to the top.

The first landing left him at what must’ve once been the crew’s sleeping quarters--little more than bedrolls on a hard floor, Nines observed with a frown--and he took the stairs where they continued on the other side of the room further up into the hideout.

This staircase led him to a comfortably lavish bedroom; Captain Dread’s, Nines would bet. He cast a halfhearted glance around the room to make sure the pirate himself wasn’t lurking on the bed or in the corner or some nonsense, but the coast was clear. You could never be too careful, in a place as batshit as Albion.

The most interesting thing in the bedroom was by far the treasure chest tucked up against the wall, and Nines immediately set about trying to open it.

It wouldn’t be pried open, and Nines didn’t want to smash for fear of breaking whatever might be inside it, so after a few minutes of pulling at it fruitlessly he started up a search for the key.

It didn’t take him nearly as long as he thought it would, thankfully; he’d found it in the bedside table drawer. Nines brought the delicate silver key back over to the old wooden chest and carefully fitted it into the keyhole.

He turned the lock, and the lid opened.

Nines gazed down at the chest’s contents, a bit perplexed. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he was pretty sure this wasn’t it.

He lifted the wooden lever out of the chest. It was obviously part of some mechanism, but Nines couldn’t fathom why an entire crew of ghost pirates would try to keep him from getting his hands on something so useless.

Nines had been pondering it the whole way back out into the cavern when something caught his eye.

Next to the down ramps there was some sort of great machine set up, a small wooden structure that connected to great metal gears built into the wall. There was a square base set into the platform; the groove dug into it looked perfectly sized for the lever Nines was holding in his left hand.

Nines looked down at the lever, and then back at the structure. He walked towards it.

“ _ No! _ ” Captain Dread’s bellowing voice echoed powerfully throughout the cavern. “ _ The Marianne is mine! Ye’ll not take her from me! _ ”

Nines’s heart hammered in his chest, bursting with excitement. Without hesitation, he jammed the lever into its slot, and he pulled.

The last vestiges of Dread’s voice were drowned out completely by the sound of the gargantuan gears turning, filling the cavern with their thunderous sound. For minutes, it was all Nines could hear, and he started to grow frustrated. Nothing else was happening.

It was only when he moved back towards the water that he noticed. The water level, too shallow to sail a ship in just moments ago, was  _ rising _ , and the Marianne along with it.

Nines watched it ascend, and grinned. Gavin was going to  _ love _ this.

* * *

More ghost pirates stood in his way on the ship, naturally, but Nines had had more than enough time to rest, and he fought back with renewed energy. He even got to face Captain Dread himself; the man was a formidable opponent, even in death, and Nines was going to remember this battle for a long time to come.

The Captain fell after a long, brutal conflict, dissolving into the air with a final defeated groan. He dropped something physical onto the deck before he vanished, and Nines found that curious enough that he chanced a look.

It was a treasure map. Nines just about bounced on his toes in glee.

Gavin was going to  _ love him _ for this.

* * *

Nines cased the ship once more to make sure it was completely rid of ghosts--wouldn’t want Gavin to be faced with any unpleasant surprises, after all--and upon finding it completely free of the paranormal, took to the helm. He raised the anchor and steered the ship out of the hidden cavern and into the open sea.

Nines had little, and by that he meant absolutely no, nautical experience, but when he touched the wheel it glowed with magic, and with its help he managed to guide the ship around the cliffs and back to where he’d entered the caves without wrecking Gavin’s new present. He bit it to pull as close as he dared direct it to the cliffside path and tossed the anchor back over the side, satisfied that the ship would be safe from prying eyes until Gavin got back later in the day. Nines couldn’t  _ wait _ .

He was smiling to himself, utterly caught up in his own besotted thoughts, when a familiar voice shook him out of his daze.

“You found the old dead sea dog!” Salty Jack called as he turned the corner around the cliffs, arms outstretched and beaming widely. “I knew you would, my lad. Finished him off for good and stole his ship, too!”

Nines jumped down from the ship to meet him, and Jack clapped an approving hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm shake. His gaze drifted from Nines to the ship, and Nines could spot the tears in Jack’s eyes as he marveled at her beauty.

“The Marianne. Never thought I’d see her and count meself living.” He wiped at his eyes and turned back to Nines with a grateful smile.

“Thank ye. You proved Salty Jack ain’t gone soft in the head yet, and I can go back to my port without fear of ridicule.” He took Nines’s hand and shook it heartily. “You ever need anythin’, anyone givin’ you trouble, you just call on ol’ Jack now, ye hear?”

Nines nodded, and Jack responded in kind. “Good. I’ll leave you to your prize, now, I know ye must be itchin’ to take her out. But ye take good care of her, now, or ol’ Salty Jack’s gonna come for ye!” He laughed brightly at his own warning, and clapped Nines once more on the shoulder before setting off back to Bloodstone.

Nines reboarded the Marianne with a faint smile on his lips.

* * *

Gavin and his crew arrived back in Bloodstone several hours later, and those hours were enough to make Nines completely chicken out on his plan.

He had finished inspecting the Marianne long ago and was now wearing holes in the mansion’s floor. Was it too much? It might’ve been too much. Gavin already had a ship, would he really want another? It was a famous ship, and very beautiful, but it had been occupied by ghosts for the past several decades; what if Gavin didn’t want a ghost ship?

Nines halted in his tracks, alarmed. What if Gavin  _ didn’t want a ghost ship? _

The front door creaked open and the sound of boisterous laughter pierced through the walls to the back room. Nines felt the onset of panic. Gavin was back, Gavin was  _ back _ .

What the fuck should he do.

The answer presented itself to him when Gavin finally entered the room. His eyes had widened upon seeing Nines in his office, though he was probably more surprised by the sorry state of his rug. He shot Nines a glance in silent question, and the only way to go was forward.

Nines gripped his hands behind his back and focused very hard on not scuffing a foot against the ragged rug.

“I. Um.” He began eloquently. “I have. something. for you.”

Gavin’s brows rose, almost certainly at Nines’s uncharacteristic nervousness as the offer itself. If he was suspicious or way, he didn’t show it, and only accepted Nines’s proposition with the grace he didn’t currently possess.

“Alright,” he said a little slowly. “What do you got?”

Nines brushed past Gavin wordlessly, indicating he follow. Gavin did, and the butterflies surged in full force in Nines’s stomach.

Each step brought a new wave of terror that only grew stronger the closer they got, and yet Nines could feel the anticipation building as well, the hope. Nines would not blame Gavin if he didn’t want a haunted ship, but. He hoped Gavin would like it.

He hoped Gavin would understand how he felt.

They made their way down the streets of Bloodstone and eventually out onto the waterfront, and Nines could tell that Gavin was fluctuating wildly between concerned and excited. He obviously had no idea what Nines could be bringing him outside the city to see.

He wouldn’t have to wait long, Nines thought, and they rounded the corner of the cliffside path, the Marianne finally visible in all her glory.

Beside Nines, Gavin gasped at the sight of her. Nines hoped that was a good thing.

Gavin raced ahead of him to the ship, and Nines followed behind at a more sedate pace. Gavin marveled at the vessel breathlessly, eyes wide and awed as he took her in. He didn’t say a word for many minutes.

“The Marianne,” Gavin breathed. “Whose is she?”

Nines frowned. This was the moment of truth.

He stood up straight and focused as much energy on forming intelligible words as possible. “Yours.” Well that was easier than he’d thought.

Gavin whirled around to face him, thoroughly awestruck. “ _ She _ ,” he pointed at the ship with a slightly trembling hand, “Is the thing you had for me?”

He stared at Nines with eyes that were almost pleading,  _ begging _ him for it to be true. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Nines spoke next with a little more confidence. “Yes. I got you a ship. Because I, um.” He could feel himself redden to the tips of his ears. “Because I love you.”

Nines stood absolutely still. Gavin’s jaw dropped. He looked between the Marianne and Nines, his eyes clouding over, and with every second that passed Nines felt his heart clinch further in a vice.

“It’s alright if you don’t--” Nines never got to finish that sentence, for he was interrupted by Gavin dragging him into a fevered kiss.

Nines closed his eyes and let himself fall into it, relief pooling into his very core. He pulled Gavin into his arms, gently grasping his hips, and sank into the feeling of closeness.

Gavin only pulled back for air after several long minutes, his lips red and kiss-bitten as he gasped for breath. Nines smiled adoringly at the sight, and Gavin stared at him in disbelieving wonder.

“Oh!” Nines remembered, and he let go of Gavin with one hand so he could root around one of his packs for something he’d stashed there earlier. “I found this, too. I can’t read nautical maps for shit, so it’s yours.”

Gavin took the scrap of paper Nines offered with a blank expression, eyes glazed over. The spark returned to them when he seemed to absorb the map’s contents.

“You--is this the map to Captain Dread’s fucking legendary treasure?!?” He demanded.

Nines let the thumb of his left hand, still holding Gavin close, stroke along the skin beneath his shirt. He could see Gavin’s Adam’s apple bob.

“Yes,” Nines replied placidly. “It is.”

Gavin froze for about five seconds. Nines waited patiently.

Gavin threw himself bodily into Nines’s arms, and, laughing, Nines picked him up and carried him onto the ship, messy kisses distracting him the whole way.

* * *

Two months of bliss had passed since then. Two months of pure, unadulterated  _ happiness _ , the kind of which Nines had never before felt in his life. Gavin now meant more to him than anything else in the world. He could only hope that Gavin knew how much Nines loved him.

Gavin had loved the ship so much that Nines later felt silly for ever thinking that he  _ wouldn’t _ . That very first evening Nines had poured Gavin onto the bed in the captain’s quarters and had his wicked way with him Gavin had insisted on spending the night on the boat, and they’d hardly slept anywhere else ever since.

They’d pulled it into the port the next day, and for the past weeks the Marianne had been anchored right across from the Lionhead on the dock. Gavin’s crew had been practically foaming at the mouth to get a good look at her, but Gavin had so far kept them at bay with stern threats should they try to set a single foot on his pristine vessel. Nines was shamelessly proud of the fact that he was the only person Gavin allowed on the thing besides his first mate Tina.

By now the captain’s quarters of the Marianne could be more accurately referred to as Gavin and Nines’s room. Gavin had practically moved in in the first week, and Nines had very few material possessions to his name to begin with. It felt natural, somehow, for the two of them to make a space for themselves there. A home, even, Nines conceded in his more wistful moments.

Home. He’d talked about it with Gavin, the last few months. Told him a lot of things. Almost everything, such that by now, the only things Gavin didn’t know were the things too trivial to think of sharing.

Gavin knew about Connor, now. He’d held Nines through more than one nightmare. He knew about the Commandant, too, and his eyes had seethed with rage at the suffering it had put him through. Gavin knew about Barnum, and Rupert, and Mrs. Spade, and even fucking  _ Victor _ , and had remained at his side after every story, every tragedy, every wild tale.

Nines was telling Gavin about the Bowerstone bridge one evening as they lay curled around each other in bed, about how if you just lied down flat on the stones at night and looked up you could see a whole world full of stars, when he realized something, something important.

The past few nights, all he’d ever talked about was Bowerstone. With everything else out of the way, with the grisly details of Nines’s past known freely between them, all that was left were the good things, the happy things, the things that Nines wanted to remember and share with Gavin.

And just about all of those things were rooted in the two years he lived with his brother in Bowerstone. He hadn’t realized it until that very moment, but he supposed it made its own sort of sense. Bowerstone  _ was _ his home, just as much as the house he grew up in was, just as much as the ship he shared with Gavin had become. For a time, he and Connor were something like happy in that city, destitute as they were. Nines missed it. In his heart, he longed for it.

He briefly entertained the thought. He couldn’t go back to a time when Connor was alive, but he could go back to Bowerstone.

But what about Gavin? He looked down at the man curled into him, gazing up at him with an eyebrow cocked, clearly curious as to why he’d trailed off in his story. Nines’s heart sunk. He’d never leave Gavin behind, never. Should he just not say anything…?

Gavin quickly disabused him of that notion by punching him lightly on the shoulder. “Hey. I know that look. None of that. What’s wrong?”

Nines sighed, and told him.

Gavin seemed to consider his words for a few moments, thoughtful instead of accusing, and Nines breathed a small sigh of relief. He pulled Gavin closer as he contemplated, eliciting a soft hum.

Eventually, Gavin shrugged. “Sure, why not? We could go. I’ve been meaning to hand over the crew to Tina anyway, it’s about time.”

Nines stared at him in complete shock. Gavin couldn’t be serious. Just like that…?

Gavin smiled warmly. He leaned forward across the meager space between them and pressed a kiss to Nines’s lips.

“Your home is my home, babe,” he told him. “Bloodstone, Bowerstone, fucking Samarkand, wherever. We’ve got this ship, we can go anywhere. And if it’s a place that makes you happy, then that’s where I want to be.”

Nines was struck motionless for several seconds. When control of his limbs finally returned to him, he snuggled closer, pressed a kiss into Gavin’s hair and let the tears well.

* * *

They put their plans into motion the very next day.

Nines honestly didn’t know how he was expecting Gavin’s crew to react to the news, but raucous cheering definitely wasn’t it. They were at the tavern for the announcement, naturally, and the second Gavin’s men heard that he’d be handing them over to Tina the place had broken out in celebration.

Gavin scoffed, adopting an air of annoyance, but Nines could see the smile curving the corners of his lips. Tina clapped him on the shoulder, jostling him.

“You have fun with your boy toy there, Gav,” she winked at Nines playfully from Gavin’s other side, “I’ll keep these scoundrels in line.”

Gavin’s smile turned soft, and he nudged her back. “I know you will, Tina.” The two of them stood in companionable silence, words unspoken but feelings understood. It dawned on Nines that Gavin and Tina had probably known each other for far longer than he’d realized, to achieve that sort of natural harmony.

“Aaaand since you’re the one who’s so  _ cruelly  _ leaving us,” Tina began, pulling away from Gavin with a wicked grin; Gavin tried to grab her when he caught sight of it, knowing it didn’t bode well for him, but she slipped away. “Next round’s on you, oh Captain!” She lifted a mug of ale in triumph. The tavern, packed to the brim with half drunk pirates, shook with the force of their enthusiastic assent.

Gavin tried lunging for her, but she only laughed and danced out of his reach. He growled an inarticulate exclamation of frustration, but Nines could tell it was all for show. The ghost of that smile still haunted the corner of his lips.

“You good?” Nines asked him, just to be sure. Gavin turned to him as if startled by the question, though his expression softened.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning into Nines just a litte, the sounds of laughing drunks, thumping feet, and sloshing drinks making up an air of merriment all around them. Gavin looked to his crew, his comrades, his best friend with an achingly warm fondness. “I’m wonderful.”

* * *

With help from Gavin’s, now Tina’s, crew, they had everything packed and were ready to set sail within the week. Nines will cherish the memory of getting to see Gavin griping incessantly at every crew member who picked up a sack or a crate and made the trek down with him from the mansion the the Marianne, cursing them out as he kept telling them  _ you don’t have to fucking help _ .

Of course, nobody listened, and probably wouldn’t even if they weren’t obviously under orders from Tina to expedite the moving process because Nines could tell they were getting just as much fun out of Gavin’s inability to accept kindness with grace. It was one of Nines’s favorite things about him; he thought it was adorable.

When the time came, every last one of the Lionhead Pirates was there to send to them off. Gavin hugged and clapped and tackled the members of his old crew as they approached him, wishing him a safe journey and a happy future, and Nines said a few of his own goodbyes.

Jacob was there, on Delia’s arm, naturally, and Nines made sure to offer them a hug each, wishing them all the best.

Jacob hauled him close first, patting him on the back gratefully. He said nothing, but he pulled away with a big smile.

Delia was next, and she squeezed him as hard as her tiny body possibly could. “Thank you,” she whispered into his ear. “You better come back to Bloodstone for the weddin’, yeah?”

Nines jolted out of the embrace in shock. A delighted grin took over his face. He looked over to Jacob, and then back to Delia, only to see bashful, secretive smiles bloom on both their faces.

“He--he said yes?” Nines leaned in to whisper to Delia. She beamed at him, bright as the sun. “He sure did! Weddin’s gon’ be next spring, so save the date, y’hear me?” She poked him in the stomach playfully. He laughed, and nodded.

Delia let him go with another tight squeeze and a tearful goodbye, curling up to Jacob once more when Nines finally pulled completely away. They waved to him as he left to rejoin Gavin, and his heart lifted a little at the sight.

He found Gavin talking to Tina, his last sendoff, in low, heartfelt tones, speaking too softly to hear, and in that instant Nines remembered something very important.

He jogged onto the ship, and when he reemerged, to at least a few semi-perplexed stares, he was carrying a long parcel wrapped with cloth. Nines made his way over to Tina and presented the object to her.

“I have a present for you. Consider it a congratulations for your promotion to Captain.”

Tina’s eyebrows rose, but she didn’t protest. She took the cloth-wrapped item from Nines and carefully set about unveiling it. At the first glint of metal on fabric, she gasped, and practically tore the rest of the fabric in her haste to hold her prize.

It was a turret rifle. Specifically, Nines recalled with pride, it was The Perforator, once wielded by a legendary bandit queen. Nines could shoot, but he was certainly no expert with ranged weapons; surely Tina would make much better use of it than he would.

It also may have come with one slight, unfortunate side effect that Nines was sure Tina would have no issue with.

When she finally cast her gaze back up at him, Nines was startled to see her eyes cloudy with barely withheld tears.

“You’d better fuck him  _ good _ , Gavin,” she said without looking away from Nines, “or else I am coming for you with  _ this _ .”

She hefted the rifle, not even aiming it yet, and already a few terrified screams surfaced from the crew. They looked amongst each other, startled, but Tina seemed absolutely  _ delighted _ . She cradled the rifle to her chest, stroking along its barrel. “Oh, mama’s gonna take such good care of you…” She cooed.

Gavin cracked a smile, but wisely refrained from outright laughter. “Sure thing, Tina. Wouldn’t wanna get perforated.”

She glared at him warningly. “You’d better!”

But her playful glare soon softened into a smile, and she slung the rifle across her back so she could pull Gavin into one final hug. For long minutes, they simply held each other.

They seemed to pull away at the same time, stepping back in tandem, and then all that was left to do was board the ship. They embarked the Marianne to one last roaring cheer from the crew, and then they set sail, waving goodbye from the edge of the deck until Bloodstone was no longer even a speck in the distance.

* * *

Gavin and Nines had talked it over, when they were planning their voyage, and agreed that they’d both like to stop in Westcliff before continuing on to Bowerstone. Gavin had never been there before, to Nines’s surprise, and he’d always wanted to visit the only place as lawless as Bloodstone, which didn’t shock Nines in the least. Gavin’s eyes had lit up when he’d talked about the vicious battles of the Crucible, how he’d love to see it for himself someday, and hearing him made the corners of Nines’s eyes crinkled up with his adoringly fond smile.

The Crucible, in fact, was also the reason why Nines wanted to stop by. He hadn’t broken the record last time, to his great disappointment, but now that he’d had a go at it he felt that next time he’d have a real chance at that legendary axe.

Nines told Gavin this and asked if he’d be willing to spectate on his run. Gavin had stared at him blankly for long enough that Nines was just starting to get worried when Gavin flung himself at Nines with his whole body, steering them pointedly towards their bedroom.

They didn’t leave for the rest of the evening.

* * *

When they arrived, Westcliff was, just as Barnum had left it, perfectly civil. Nines suppressed a wince, hoping that Gavin wouldn’t be too disappointed.

On the contrary, Gavin was ecstatic. Apparently the only places he liked more than degenerate bandit towns were  _ tourist traps _ , of all things. And here Nines had thought he couldn’t possibly love this man more.

As soon as they had lowered the anchor, Gavin was pulling Nines from curio shop to novelty stall and back again, gazing in wonderment at every little knick knack they passed by. By the fifth shop, it had gotten just too adorable, and Nines couldn’t resist hauling him into a kiss right there.

The proprietor had already been shooting them nasty glares, wary of Gavin’s deft fingers when paired with the glint in his eyes--the poor bastard had probably operated this establishment since long before Barnum came in with his reforms, and decades of dealing in a city of nothing but ruffians meant he’d never trust a customer again--and, evidently, putting on a show was the last straw. They were rudely interrupted and rather haphazardly kicked out of  _ that _ shop, the scratchy bristles of a too-old broom thwacking them each on the head on the way out.

The dust clinging onto the ends made their way into Nines’s nose, and he sneezed. Gavin, watching him, made this face like he wanted to wrap Nines up in warm, soft things and keep him safe from the world. Nines rolled his eyes and gave Gavin one last chaste peck on the lips.

Gavin clearly wasn’t expecting it, and he straightened a bit, startled, only catching up when Nines was already pulling away. Nines saw the fire ignite behind Gavin’s eyes, the sign of a challenge invented and accepted, and even as Nines felt his stomach drop at the prospect of a monster unleashed he could feel a pleased smile curling the corners of his mouth when--

“Have you tried the shooting range yet? There’s no way you can score high enough to win the first few, but the fourth prize is an actually rather passable table wine--”

Gavin’s gaze snapped to the tourist as he passed by, chatting to his friend, and followed him like a hawk until the two were out of sight. Slowly, Nines saw the fire in Gavin’s eyes morph into a brightly sparking inferno.

Without further ado and any intention of continuing their dalliance utterly forgotten about, Gavin took Nines by the arm and dragged him in the direction the man had come from, up the hill to the east of town and hopefully in the direction of the Westcliff Shooting Range. Nines caught a glimpse of a signpost as they hustled past, assuring him they were going in the right direction, and breathed a sigh of amused relief.

They found the place after only one minor detour, thank the Light, and Gavin wasted no time in signing up to play.

There were three rounds in total. Nines saw the shift in Gavin’s composure just before the gallery operator rang the opening bell, that deathly calm that took over his features, his gaze sharpening to a devastating point.

Nines was entirely unashamed to admit that it was hot.

The bell rang, and Gavin’s pistol shot off.

He shot with devastating and pinpoint accuracy, nothing less than characteristic of his skills, firing off headshots into every single cardboard bandit cutout that popped into view. That intense gaze never wavered for even the slightest second.

By the end of the first round, Nines had to covertly adjust himself in his pants.

At the conclusion of the third and final round, naturally, the range master’s jaw had hit the floor in abject disbelief. Gavin, gun still smoking and a wicked grin curving his lips, spun his pistol in his hand before slotting it neatly back in its holster. Show-off, Nines thought adoringly.

The range master held up a hand trembling with awe, making it hard to read the piece of paper he clutched there. Nines squinted at it, and when he finally managed to catch the number written there, even he couldn’t keep his eyes from widening in shock.

The number of points a player needed to win the first prize was 175. Gavin had scored 306.

Nines sighed to himself, long-suffering but entirely fond. Gavin would  _ never  _ shut up about this. But somehow, that was a trial Nines was willing to endure.

Gavin glanced at the piece of paper and back at the range master, and quirked an eyebrow at the man wordlessly, that devilish grin still present and a feral glint in his eyes. The range master scrambled into action before Gavin could utter a word.

He ran for the booth at the front of the range, rummaging around the cupboards under the front counter until he’d pulled the right cabinet away and uncovered a square metal safe. He entered some combination, had to redo it a few times in his haste, but finally got it open and withdrew something from its depths.

Carefully, he lifted it, and brought it over to Gavin. “The first place prize, sir.” He presented it to him shakily, an almost worshipful amazement racking his form and coloring his tone. Light, this might go to Gavin’s head. Nines might need to write Tina for help.

Thankfully, after taking it from the man and peeking under its thin cloth covering, Gavin seemed to be far too consumed with his own absolute wonderment to notice any fodder for his ego. He picked up the object, stroking his fingers over it reverently, a soft noise escaping his lips.

“Is this…” He looked from the gun in his hands to the range master before him and back again, an almost excitement creeping into his voice that Nines had never heard before, but was certifiably adorable. “Is this The Red Dragon?” He was practically bouncing on his toes.

The game master looked puzzled. “A Red Dragon? Can’t say I know what that is, sir. This’s just some fancy weapon that some ol’ thug lost in a game of Fortune’s Tower o’er back at The Bloody Stump, back when this town was all bandit-run. It was left behind the counter when the place went outta business. Too pretty ta sell without gettin’ stiffed, so I took it and started usin’ it as a prize for the range.” He shrugged, as if that was that.

Gavin was almost vibrating with giddy excitement. Curious, Nines took a look over his shoulder to see what all the fuss was about.

Nines had to admit, he could see that it must be something special. Its design was ornate but subdued, its color eye-catching but unobtrusive. The Red Dragon was a clockwork pistol, and almost certainly a high-quality one, at that. Nines chanced a glance at Gavin, that utterly mesmerized look as he stared at the pistol adoringly, and revised his assessment. It was  _ definitely _ high quality.

Gavin finally tore his eyes away from the gun and settled them on Nines. Nines cocked his head, wondering what Gavin could need to say to him so urgently that it would pull him out of this awestruck reverie.

“Babe,” Gavin began, eyes pointed in Nines’s direction but seeing somewhere much farther away, “This is  _ The Red Dragon _ . I am now the most  _ epic _ marksman that has  _ ever lived _ , holy  _ fuck _ .”

And, there it was. Nines shut him up with a heady kiss as fast as he possibly could. Clearly, the only way to deflate Gavin’s rapidly swelling ego was to distract him with the swelling of something  _ else _ , right? Right.

Tina would be so proud.

Nines hauled Gavin up and around his hips, his legs braced around Nines’s waist, and he started the trek back towards town while still locked at the lips, leaving a mildly uncomfortable shooting range master in their wake.

About halfway back, Gavin started to get too out of breath, so Nines set him gently down to his feet. They walked side by side the rest of the way, Gavin marvelling at his new pistol, turning it this way and that, telling Nines about the myths and histories associated with it, and swearing up and down all the miraculous feats he was going to achieve with it.

“I’m going to learn how to dual wield. I have  _ two legendary weapons _ , Nines, it’s fuckin’  _ fate _ . This is going to be so awesome. I’m going to be fucking  _ unstoppable _ .”

Nines rolled his eyes affectionately, but he had no doubt that Gavin spoke the truth. In less than a year’s time, with two devastatingly powerful weapons, he’ll be a fighting force the likes of which Albion had never before seen.

* * *

When they got back to town, Gavin realized to his great horror that it was almost evening and they’d only gotten through half the shops. They tore through the rest of them at a frenzied pace, Nines laughing as Gavin pulled him along behind him, and before they knew it they’d browsed them all.

They ate dinner in Westcliff at The Foaming Jugs, and the food was moderately reasonable for its albeit inflated price. When night fell, they headed back to The Marianne. They turned in quickly, preparing for an early morning; Nines had a big day tomorrow.

The next round of Crucible matches was set to start, and Nines was  _ itching  _ to have another go.

* * *

Nines didn’t even have to ask Gavin if he’d be willing to spectate his challenge. Nines had only mentioned that he wanted to sign up, and Gavin was immediately right there with him, insisting he’d be cheering him on every round he played. Nines had tackled him back onto the bed, and by the time they finally made it to the arena they were almost too late for Nines to participate.

Luckily, he made the cutoff, and Nines took to his second Crucible challenge with renewed purpose and vigor. He tore through the first three rounds with more than minutes to spare, setting groundbreaking new records. Every time he finished a wave of enemies he’d chance a look up, and without fail, he’d see Gavin in the stands, shouting with pride, the massive crowd roiling around him as the arena chanted  _ Sparrow, Sparrow _ .

Rounds four through six Nines couldn’t maintain that more-than-a-minute gap, but the crowd still went wild with his every victory, Gavin foremost among them. He seemed to be having a great time, Nines noted with fond amusement, his knuckles white and his eyes wide as he gazed out over the carnage. Maybe he’d like to do his own run sometime.

Rounds seven and eight were tricky, his clear time shrinking to only a half-minute difference between the record he needed to break, but break them he did. There was only one round left. Nines closed his eyes, took a steadying breath in, and exhaled in one smooth move.

There was only the  _ troll _ .

Nines gripped the pistol Gavin had lent him--“For good luck, babe, but don’t you  _ dare _ put a scratch on it, The Red Dragon may be shiny and new but the Dragonstomper .48 is my  _ baby _ \--” and steeled his resolve. The starting bell blared, and the crowd roared.

It took Nines a while to figure it out the first time around, but eventually he’d realized the waves of Hobbes would keep coming as long as the Rock Troll was still standing, and defeating the troll was the only condition for beating the round. He’d need to ignore them if he wanted to fell the troll with enough time to spare.

Nines kept the Hobbes at bay with Force Push and Incinerate while he steadily shot out the big beast’s nerve tendrils, dodging its wide-flung attacks between each blast. He couldn’t help but marvel at the weapon in his hand with each shot he fired; he was no gunsmith, but even he could tell that with this balance, this power, this pistol was something special. If the Dragonstomper .48 was such a fine gun Nines could only imagine what The Red Dragon must be like to get Gavin so worked up.

All of Nines’s focus had honed in on the single thought of battle. So much so that when the last shot was fired and the crowd  _ erupted _ with cheers as the troll sunk back into the earth, Nines almost dropped Gavin’s gun in his startelement. He thanked his quick reflexes that he didn’t, Gavin’s earlier warning echoing menacingly in his head.

Nines looked around sheepishly, trying to figure out what had happened. Obviously he’d won, but had he--

“What a performance! We’ve just witnessed Crucible history! This Champion holds the ultimate record, a feat of such proportions it is surely unimaginable!”

Nines couldn’t make out the rest of the commentary, drowned out as it was by the noise from the stands, but he understood that he must’ve done it. Off to the side, Nines saw a gate lift, and his heart stuttered in anticipation in his chest.

Before he had time to go investigate, however, there was movement from somewhere in front of him. It was Gavin, leaping over the innermost ring of the arena to join Nines in the pit below. He took off across the fighting area and leapt into Nines’s arms, startling a delighted laugh out of his Hero. Gavin’s own echoed jubilantly next to Nines’s ear.

Nines spun them around a few times, squeezing Gavin to his front, the audience still rioting in the stands behind them, before regretfully pulling away to set Gavin down on his own two feet. He pulled out the Dragonstomper .48, perfectly undamaged, and passed it to Gavin, who took it and smiled at him gratefully.

That smile soon turned giddy. “Fuck, Nines, you did it! That was awesome, you set a new total record by over  _ five minutes _ ! I’ve totally gotta try this sometime, those fights were fuckin’  _ epic _ \--”

Nines listened to his stream of chatter indulgently as he pulled Gavin lightly by the hand towards the open gate that led to his prize. Gavin obliged him, letting himself be tugged along as he marveled at how many Hollow Men Nines had incinerated all at once back in round four, and Nines followed the path to the end of the corridor, where a treasure chest was backed against the wall.

Gavin trailed off upon seeing it, his curiosity piquing. He nudged Nines with his elbow pointedly, eyebrows raised. Nines huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes, and leaned down to open this chest.

The axe he uncovered was the most breathtakingly beautiful weapon he had ever seen, both of Gavin’s pistols included, which was a thought that Nines would  _ never _ voice aloud, for he valued both his life and Gavin’s place in it.

Nines ran a reverent knuckle across the flat of the blade, tracing a line parallel to its wickedly sharp edge. Both sides were decorated with a shadowy dark filigree, and a bright red ruby was inalid on the center above the handle.

The handle itself was long and metal. Ornate designs in the steel decorated the top half, and the bottom was roped in a comfortable, smooth leather that gripped nicely in Nines’s palms. He lifted the axe to test its weight in his arms, tilting it this way and that, maneuvering it around as Gavin watched interestedly at his side. It handled like an absolute dream. In his head, Nines was in  _ raptures _ .

He immediately unfastened the axe at his back and tossed it aside, affixing the new one to the harness as carefully as he was able. Next to him, Gavin burst into laughter.

“Shit, Nines, lemme--” he sputtered, wiping tears from his eyes, as if he was one to talk, “lemme help you with that, come here--”

Gavin strapped the axe onto Nines’s back, delayed occasionally by fingers slipping as he devolved into more fits of giggles, but Nines magnanimously didn’t call him out and waited patiently for him to readjust the straps. When he was done he patted Nines’s shoulder, signaling he could turn back around.

They walked back to the arena side by side, old axe completely discarded, Gavin descending into laughter once more when he looked back at its sad visage tossed haphazardly into a dark corner. Nines didn’t care, this new one was  _ gorgeous _ . Fuck any other axe that ever existed.

When they emerged in the Crucible fighting area once more, a voice came blaring through the arena.

“He’s done it! Ladies and gentlemen, behold! Mad-dog ‘The Strangler’ McGraw’s legendary weapon, his mighty axe, The Chopper!”

The crowd, not yet dissipated, roared. Nines took Gavin’s hand to ground himself against the noise, and spared a moment to consider the name. ‘The Chopper.’ Nines would’ve probably gone for something a little less--on the nose, maybe, something less reminiscent of naming a gray cat ‘Smokey,’ but he could live with it, he thought with a shrug. It was a small price to pay for such a magnificent weapon.

People had started throwing coins into the pit. It was a nice thought, but being pelted with small pieces of metal was more hazardous than it sounded, so Nines tugged Gavin along by their entwined hands, encouraging him forward. Gavin smiled, and they started their walk to the exit.

Surrounded by an adoring crowd, cheering for him, and the man he loved at his side, smiling at him, in that moment, Nines had never felt more content.

* * *

Nines and Gavin dodged many an offer of pints bought and victory celebrations held in honor of the Sparrow, the great Lionheart, Champion of the Crucible and Hero of Albion--Gavin had given  _ that  _ particular fan an earful about letting it go to Nines’s head, and Nines had sat in utter satisfaction knowing that he was every single one of those things, and yet he was magnanimous enough not to brag.

Mostly.

The point was, they turned down any excuses to stay that anyone had offered them, because though they’d had a great time in Westcliff they were both eager to resume their journey to Bowerstone. They could come back and visit some other time, perhaps on an  _ actual _ vacation. Maybe, if he wasn’t still out of town, Nines could introduce Barnum to Gavin next time.

Nines thumbed the worn picture in his pocket, and rather than the usual mournful melancholy, a warm hope started to fill him instead.

Yeah. He’d do that, the next time he got the chance.

So they packed up their things--Gavin’s small army of souvenirs now took up a whole box in their closet, and Nines had never loved him more--and set out to sea once again. The journey from Westcliff to Bloodstone would take a couple of days over water, and they spent the time leisurely, wrapping themselves up in each other while the Marianne sailed on unmanned. Nines never would have guessed, but there really  _ were _ perks to owning a ghost ship.

Their arrival at the port of Bowerstone was bittersweet, mainly because Gavin had to put his clothes back on now that they were back near civilization, if anywhere in Albion could claim to be civilized. Nines sighed wistfully as he donned some pants for the first time in two days.

They stopped at the mouth of the Bowerstone River. The Marianne was too big to sail up into town, but there was a toll station situated near the entrance, and the workers there should’ve been able to tell them where they were allowed to dock. They stopped the ship when they got close, and Gavin disembarked to ask for their direction.

They were told they could anchor their ship around the back of the city, near the Old Town gate and the road that led to Rookridge. Nines perked up. He wouldn’t mind staying outside Old Town--it was a ways away from the city proper, but for a few years it was home. Twenty years had dulled some of the pain--he thought he had only good memories left now. It would be nice to reconnect with that part of himself. It might do him some good to--to remember.

And he knew that whatever happened, Gavin would be by his side.

They anchored the Marianne just outside the city gates. Gavin had frowned, wary that passing travelers might see his magnificent ship right there in the open and get  _ ideas _ , and Nines couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. Something told him that even if an entire crew of brigands boarded her and tried to set sail, she wouldn’t budge an inch.

They spent the first few days simply exploring the city, Nines showing Gavin the sights he remembered from his childhood. They wandered through Old Town for the entire first day, Nines haltingly pointing out things and places and people he remembered from his and Connor’s childhood; the signpost that another kid from their orphanage had twisted the wrong way and no one had since bothered to fix, Magpie, the old tramp they’d stolen that bottle of wine back from who’d invested his talent for scrounging in the curio stall he now ran, the lookout point where Nines and Connor had warmed their hands by a brazier all those winters ago. It ached, to be back, but with Gavin by his side, that ache calmed to a bittersweet nostalgia.

They’d been in town for about a week when they decided it was about time they hit the shops. They could get food and other basic necessities in Old Town easy enough, but the more specialized businesses--the kinds that offered supplies Heroes needed; weapons, armor, potions--could only be found in Bowerstone Market. Nines was also running low on oil for his axe blade, but what he insisted they find was more potions--he was almost out, and Gavin didn’t have any, because he was used to traveling with a crew, but Nines couldn’t bear to think what he would do if Gavin ever got seriously hurt. So, potions it was, Gavin acquiesced without a fuss.

They took their time strolling through the city to the market--Nines hadn’t taken Gavin this far into town yet, and they both had fun marvelling at how beautiful Old Town had become--and within the hour, they’d reached the town square. Gavin’s eyes widened as he took it all in; the great volume of people, the many and varied shops, the wide vastness of the square, the clocktower situated in the middle of it all. Nines smiled. He was fairly certain his own reaction had been much the same, once upon a time.

Nines took Gavin’s hand and pulled him across the square, towards the potion shop. He could stop by the blacksmith’s for his weapon oil later.

“Whoa, Nines, this is--this is amazing, shit, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a city so--”

Gavin kept talking, but Nines could hear a small commotion somewhere behind them; it sounded like people being jostled out of the way, and rather rudely. The sounds drew closer, but Nines paid it no heed. They’d saved the world and had been in Bowerstone less than a week; there’s no way anyone could have it out for them.

So he thought, but the noises still grew louder. He thought he could make out the sound of voices, low, exclaiming as they pushed through the crowd. Nines furrowed his brow and put his right hand to his axe, his left hand holding Gavin’s in a firm grip. The sounds grew even closer.

Suddenly, Nines could make out a voice.

“Nines!” It shouted. Nines stopped, and Gavin stiffened at his side. Slowly, he tried to peer over his shoulder and catch a glimpse over who’d stopped them. When he caught sight of whoever it was, Gavin went utterly still.

Nines didn’t know what to make of that reaction, but it couldn’t have been anything good.

“Nines,” The man called again, almost pleading, despair and hope in equal measure both audible in his voice. He sounded at once shattered and stitched-together whole. “Is that… Is that you?”

Nines’s brow creased. What kind of question was that? He started to turn, bracing himself to face whoever this was, whoever could put that look on Gavin’s face.

Nines turned around, and then he froze.

“Connor?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You totally thought I killed Connor. You totally did! And you thought I'd forgotten about Sumo, too!
> 
> ...Nah, I bet you didn't. You're too smart for me, aren't you ❤️
> 
> Connor's part will come next! And it will, hopefully, please, please world, not be as long as this and take me four months to write.
> 
> Whatever happens, I'll do my best.


End file.
